Escape
by patricia51
Summary: When a zombie apocalypse strikes Washington can NCIS Special Agent Tim McGee use his intelligence and street savvy taught by his superiors and learned from years as a Federal Law Enforcement Agent to save himself and the love of his life, wheelchair bound Delilah Fielding McGee? With Chapter 5 now rated M. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Escape by patricia51

(When a zombie apocalypse strikes Washington can NCIS Special Agent Tim McGee use his intelligence and street savvy taught by his superiors and learned from years as a Federal Law Enforcement Agent to save himself and the love of his life, wheelchair bound Delilah Fielding McGee?)

(Note: This story is not set in my usual "Resident Evil" scenarios but rather is not specific to any zombie movie/mythos although I have borrowed some things from it as well as "World War Z" (the book), "Zombieland", "The Walking Dead" and "Zombie Apocalypse" although I only watched that film the first time to see if Ving Rhames would finally survive a zombie movie.)

(NCIS Headquarters)

"Covering fire," Team leader Jethro Gibbs commanded to the dwindling band of trained agents and support personnel hastily armed from the NCIS central armory. Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Ellie Bishop ran to the van assigned to their team as well as one of the other response teams whose sole surviving member had happened to have the keys but was badly limping from a struggle to close off a door that had somehow been left open when the building came under siege.

As the Senior Agent had previously directed only the trained agents fired. There was no storm of automatic gunfire; they had already learned it did little but waste increasingly rare and precious ammunition. Instead the shooters took careful aim and fired single shots aimed for their targets' heads.

"One round, one kill," Gibbs reminded everyone. "And only if they are a threat." He turned and fired past a data-processing clerk who clutched his pistol as though it was a magic talisman rather than a weapon to be used. "That was a threat!" the former Marine yelled as the zombie staggering down the hallway behind them fell. "Watch your areas damn it."

The vans roared to life and headed for the barricaded doorway. Gibbs noted with approval that Bishop ran over several zombies along the way rather than waste time trying to go around them as DiNozzo was for some baffling reason. Regardless the petite blonde agent arrived first, sliding sideways to put the vehicle's side sliding door right up the building's entrance. Gibbs and McGee pulled the barricade aside just as they had to let the two agents out and the silver-haired team leader motioned behind him.

"Next group!"

Accompanied by a single agent who slid into the passenger seat eight NCIS employees scrambled into the van. McGee slammed the door as Gibbs leaned in the passenger window.

"You got the route to the evacuation center?" he shouted to Ellie.

"Yes," was the brief reply.

"They're still loading out there as of ten minutes ago. And your husband is already out there so get!"

The van screeched away, heading for the highway. In spite of everything Gibbs grinned as he waved Tony in. Who would have thought that the slight blonde female transfer from the NSA would have proved to be a speed-demon driver and a damn good one at that?

Tony on the other hand nearly hit the building. Still, he was so close on the front side of the van that nothing could get by even if it meant the agent literally riding shotgun had to climb in to that seat from the passenger compartment. Gibbs could hear pounding on the other side of the van and Tony cracked his window enough to fire several times. The resulting noise half-deafened him for Gibbs had to shout several times to get his attention.

"DiNozzo! Keep your window up. And stop dancing around out there. Run the damn things over. They're not people anymore."

The Senior Field Agent nodded and took off. Gibbs' gut was right. When the van pulled away there were over a dozen infected almost at the door. Tim jumped beside him again and between them they took the attackers down. He blessed the fact that unlike some of the movies he had seen, or rather been subjected to over the years, that these creatures did not need to be head shot. Any wound that would kill a normal human being would kill them as well. But head shots were still the most certain way to put them down with one round.

The two NCIS agents stepped back, pulling the makeshift door cover over the opening. Gibbs took a deep breath and counted survivors. He peeked back out again and shook his head.

"No vans left and I don't think we can count on getting enough cars."

"Wait a minute Boss. How about the Autopsy Van? That would carry everyone."

"Might be hard to get to. I have to admit that the morgue really is the last place I would want to be right now."

"Boss," Tim said as patiently as he could manage under the circumstances. After all, being the senior agent present when everything went to hell in a hand basket his boss was responsible for all the survivors in the building and forgetting a minor detail or two was understandable. "Remember this isn't a 'raise the dead' scenario. They are infected while alive. People are only reanimated if they die from being infected. In fact they aren't really 'zombies' at all but rather virus infected victims."

Gibbs nodded. Along with two of the guys from Cybercrimes they heaved a desk up against their barricade and the group took off. Tim insisted on leading the way, scared though he was, while Gibbs brought up the rear.

"Boss if we lose you we lose everyone."

The quick trip was almost without incident. Tim had to fire twice, the second time with regret but also without hesitation as the moaning figure in their way had once been Allison from Accounting whom he had dated a time or two before meeting Delilah. They passed through the morgue. There was no sign of Ducky. Jimmy Palmer had the week off Tim recalled. He and Breean had called when their private alert went out to tell them they were almost at the agreed upon destination already, having taken their vacation down South. He peeked through the window of the heavy metal door leading to the garage. The big van was there and the overhead was down. He slipped out and grabbed the driver's door.

"Damn!"

"What is it?"

"The door's locked. Where does Ducky keep the keys?"

In reply the door locks suddenly pooped open. Doctor Donald Mallard opened the door that had resisted Tim's efforts. "The keys are right here dear boy."

"Everyone in," barked Gibbs. As the group piled into the van he turned to his remaining agent.

"Tim, are you sure about this?"

"Boss I don't have a choice. She's in our apartment with no way to get out. Yes, her van with the lift and controls so she can drive is in the parking lot but by the time she could get down the ramps, out to it and get inside, well, it would take too much time. She'd never make it." Tim looked at his Team Leader, the man he respected more than anyone else he knew. "Boss I have to try. Even if I fail I have to try at least."

Gibbs placed a firm hand on the shoulder of the man he considered his younger son. "Tim, I'm giving you an order. Don't just try. Do it! Save her and yourself. Do you hear me?"

The younger man couldn't help but smile.

"Affirmative Boss. You know me, I always obey orders." His face became serious again. "Get ready to go. I'll open the door. As soon as it's high enough I'll signal you and then make a run for my car."

Gibbs nodded and climbed into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him. Tim moved to the roll-up doors controls. The engine fired and the back-up lights came on. Tim pushed the green button and the door rumbled up in response. His eyes swept the drive. Nothing yet.

It seemed to take hours for the door to rise enough to clear the top of the van. The instant it did he waved and Gibbs backed out. Once he was clear of the driveway the Team Leader slammed the vehicle into "Drive" and stepped heavily on the accelerator. Needing to focus all his attention on what he was doing he still managed to spare a glance for his computer wizard and all around good agent as he sprinted for his car. He gave a sigh of relief as Tim dove into the car and roared away himself.

"Good Luck son," he whispered.

Tim was doing something he never imagined he would. He was talking on his cell phone and driving. But the conversation didn't last long as the call was answered on its first ring.

"Tim?"

"Sweetheart I'm on the way. Ten minutes maybe fifteen."

"Tim they're all over the place!" There was no need to ask who "they" were. "Save yourself."

"Not going to happen Delilah. Remember what you said when we first moved in together? 'Big or small we'll face it together.' We go together either way."

There was a small pause.

"I love you Tim."

"I love you too."

He clicked off and gave the car more gas.

(To be continued) 


	2. Chapter 2

Escape, Chapter 2 by patricia51

(Apartment Complex in DC)

(Note: When I first started outlining this story Bishop was still with Jake and Tony was still with Zoe and I decided just to let it ride like that.)

Delilah Fielding McGee careful closed her phone. She kept it near at hand though. If need be, if the creatures broke in, she would make a final call back to Tim to tell him he needn't bother coming and that she loved him. The heavy Sig Sauer in her lap was a comfort. She would defend herself to the last round but that one was for her. She would not be eaten alive as she had already witnessed having happened. Just in case she lost count she had left one cartridge on the table beside her.

She didn't pray often. Probably not nearly as often as she should she admitted to herself. But she did now, for Tim, that he might not cast his life away trying to save her.

She rolled to where she had carefully propped up one corner of one slat of the living room blinds. It allowed her to look out without hopefully making any motion that would draw what everyone was calling the undead. They seemed to be drawn by sound first and then motion. Once they were close enough though they knew the living from their own kind. You couldn't just play dead.

She looked out. Too many dead. Some were so torn up they apparently could not be revived by the infection. Others were staggering to their feet. Too many for her to make a run for it. As if she could run.

She listened. There was still the occasional echo of gunfire. Not like it had been earlier. It had sounded like World War Three for a while. World War Z maybe she snorted. It had come true. Sort of. She shook her head. Might know it, although the movie hadn't done much for her she had delved into the book version and then the original "Zombie Survival Guide" by the same author just for fun. One part already struck her, the revived infected could not manage stairs very well and doorknobs baffled them. How ironic that the ramps led from the ground floor to their apartment and the zombies could manage those just fine thank you very much. And they didn't bother opening doors, they crashed through them or even better through the windows.

Why hadn't anyone listened? The NSA, the CIA, the DIA and other organizations had monitored the outbreak of the disease from its onset. Whether the first case appeared in China or France or somewhere else was irrelevant. The infection spread. The CDC had issued warnings. No one listened or paid more than lips service. Everyone was confident that a cure could be quickly found and here in the US that they, the most powerful nation on Earth, could handle it.

She remembered sitting in the new office she had been assigned after her return from Dubai. Reports had been scattered, seemingly random but actually in a very organized fashion. She had three; no it had been four, TV's on different news channels and two radios at the same time as she tried to monitor what she saw as a growing danger.

"I see," a dry voice commented from the open door, "that you have been studying the organization system of Ellie Bishop."

Spinning her chair around she had rolled around the desk.

"I don't sit on the floor or my desk cross-legged though Trent. I'd be stuck there until someone came to help me." She studied his face. "What's up?"

Everyone had mixed feelings about Trent Kort, including her, but she tended to give him more of the benefit of the doubt than most other people did including her husband and his boss. Especially his boss. Delilah knew that Trent almost always had his own agenda in any situation and that agenda rarely fit with those around him. His methods were unorthodox to say the least and sometimes illegal, immoral and probably fattening. But at bottom she believed he had the best interests of the country at heart and he wasn't nearly the rogue he portrayed although she usually waited until she could confirm his information before acting on it. When he talked she listened and the same was true in reverse.

"I assume you have been tracking the latest outbreaks of this unknown pathogen?"

"I have," she waved at the piles of printouts and files. "It's spreading. It's getting worse."

"And it's going to get much, MUCH worse I believe."

"Everyone in authority I brief dismisses the threat," she let her frustration show. "They all say we can handle it, that contingency plans are in place to take care of any outbreak in the US."

Trent snorted. "And they're all wrong. And the 'contingency plans' are airhead assumptions that don't even address the very real issues of this infection."

"What can we do?"

"Just keep butting our heads against the wall," he shrugged. He held out his hand to shake hers.

Delilah had been involved in the intelligence business long enough to keep her features under control as she felt the thumb drive being passed to her.

"That's a lovely computer. I see you have all the latest stuff." Someone who wasn't looking for it would have missed the almost imperceptible shake of the CIA agent's head. Delilah was already certain that the surreptitious passage of the drive meant it would not be wise to examine the files on it in the office. But it was nice to have confirmation.

"Nothing but the best for the NSA," she replied with a smile and a tiny nod. "Now as for my piece of junk I have at home, why it's not even connected to the internet most of the time."

"You never know when that might be a good thing. Take care Delilah."

That night she carefully reviewed the information that Cort had passed her, making sure that the connection from her computer to the internet was not just broken electronically but physically disconnected. She didn't think anyone was actually spying on her but there was no point in taking chances.

What she read dismayed her. A lot. So she got Tim to help her throw a cocktail party at their place, inviting, of course, Tim's team and their significant others. There was good food and a moderate amount of alcohol but no one got plastered or even tipsy. When she judged the time was right she wheeled herself out in the middle of the relaxing group.

She looked around and smiled. Her Tim. Jethro Gibbs and Abigail Borin from the Coast Guard Investigative Services. She really hoped that budding relationship worked. Tony and his ATF Agent girlfriend Zoe Keates. That one too. Ellie Bishop and her husband Jake Malloy. Jimmy and Breanne. Abby and her boyfriend. And finally wonderful wise Ducky. She took a deep breath.

"First of all thank you all for coming. I hope you had a good time. But now it's time to reveal I had, have, an ulterior motive for getting all of us together."

Jethro nodded. Most people can't read him but she can a bit and she can tell he's not at all surprised. Neither is Ducky. The rest she's not sure about. Doesn't matter. She plunges on.

"Probably all of you are aware of the spreading infection people seem to be calling the 'Zombie Epidemic'. By the way the victims are not really zombies. They're infected with a virus causing a high fever that destroys their higher brain functions and cripples their nerve responses which makes them look like the classic version of zombies. They also have, as one movie put it, a 'really bad case of the munchies'. Scientists don't know why. They DO need to eat and drink but because of their altered metabolism they can go for long periods of time without food or water."

The US Government and other governments including the UN are making confident proclamations that they are prepared to deal with the situation. Recently I was slipped information that contained most of those plans and I have been reviewing them."

"I take it," Gibbs said in that dry matter-of-fact voice of his, "that you are not impressed by those plans."

"They're crap," Delilah said bluntly. "The so-called facts they are based on are basically conjured out of the air or old horror movies." She shot a warning glance at Tony who for once declined to expound on his knowledge of old movies that surely include zombie pictures. "The thing is that most of them, especially the US plans, start with the airy assumption that the whole thing need not be taken seriously because it's so farfetched and besides the US can handle anything."

The DoD analyst went to illustrate her worries and why she found fault with the so-called contingency plans. Her audience, unlike most of the ones she had tried to express her worries to, were smart down-to-earth people who were not given to wistful thinking. They all grasped what was going on and why she thought it was going to get much worse.

"It's a pandemic about to happen and no one is listening to the voices crying in the wilderness. Including yours," Ducky said sadly.

"So what are you suggesting Delilah?" Gibbs went straight to the heart of the matter.

"I know you all. We will do our duty for as long as we can but when it reaches that tipping point, and we'll know when that happens, we'll have to take care of ourselves, friends, family and co-workers. When that happens there is one listed contingency that gives me hope. That is the idea of setting up cleared areas as soon as possible. Although some of the suggested areas are way too large, in my mind anyway, the idea of clearing certain islands like Catalina in California and Cumberland down in Georgia as refuges strike me as the best bet."

There wasn't much talk. Everyone was familiar with the spreading infection but no one else had realized just how bad it was getting. Or how bad it was going to get. The decision was made to stay close, stay alert and be prepared to take off when the moment came.

Well the moment was here. She prayed that they would survive it.

(To be continued) 


	3. Chapter 3

Escape, Chapter 3 by patricia51

(Just outside Washington, DC)

Tim slung into the parking lot of the apartment, the rear end of the motorcycle he was attempting to ride trying to slide out from under him. He wondered, neither for the first nor even the fifth time, if this was the smartest thing he had ever done. But it was a little late to change his mind.

On the way home from NCIS his mind had been fixed on one thing only. How was he going to get Delilah from their third floor apartment to either his vehicle or hers?

After the meeting that day they had all started to make preparations. One major one had been the members of the group had quietly traded in their old vehicles for all wheel and four wheel drive ones. Tony had nearly lost it when Jake and Ellie showed up one day with a four wheel drive pickup that had been jacked up so much that a two step ladder had been installed on both sides so Ellie could get up into the cab. Tim had settled for an all wheel drive crossover but had added a police type front guard to it. With his mind on Delilah it had already proven its worth several times when he ran over zombies that he had barely noticed except as some type of obstacle in his way.

They had laid in food, water, medicines and other supplies; cached in various vehicles, homes and other locations. One of those had been the garage at NCIS where it had been hastily retrieved and put in the autopsy van. There had been more in his vehicle and Delilah's van but they probably wouldn't get the chance to get to her stuff and there was the chance they might not get back to Tim's vehicle, now parked out of sight at the recently abandoned dealer where he had picked up the bike.

Thank goodness that in the days filling the calm before the storm they had attempted to live life as best as they could and after skydiving had run its course (thank GOD Tim thought. He had silently agreed with Tony's comment that the only way someone was going to get him to jump out of an aircraft that was not safely on the ground involved said aircraft being gloriously on fire. But Delilah loved it and that was all that counted) they had leaned to ride a motorcycle together. He did admit that he had grown competent if not exactly comfortable on a bike but he loved Delilah's arms around him when they rode and that was sufficient reason in itself.

The idea had popped in his head when he passed the bike shop that was less than a mile from home. He had slammed on brakes and done a state trooper turn around that would have made Vin Diesel proud. THAT was the solution to getting up the ramps and getting down with Delilah safely. He hoped.

No one had been there although there were signs of a hasty departure. Because of his nature Tim actually hesitated for several seconds before breaking open the locked wall cabinet that held the keys. He chose a moderately large street legal bike that was capable of going off road. Quickly he fueled it, started it and rolled to his vehicle where he dug out the most important survival items stored there and packed them as best he could in the bike's saddlebags. No telling if he could get back here.

He pulled his phone out and called Delilah, quickly explaining the situation to her. She promised to be right by the door and ready. As he stuffed his phone back in his jacket pocket a moaning from around the corner of the building told him it was time to go.

"Careful Tim," he reminded himself remembering his first solo attempt to ride. Too much throttle and too quick a release of the clutch had seen the bike stand on its rear wheel, dumping him as it shot out from under him. Delilah had teased him about it for months but had managed to keep the scenario to herself. He was still profoundly grateful she hadn't told Tony.

He took off carefully and headed home. Even without the ramps to be negotiated it was soon apparent to him that he had made a wise choice. Stalled and abandoned vehicles ranging from compact cars to eighteen wheelers were everywhere and tested his ability to maneuver around them and still keep up his speed. He did slow once, enough to draw his sidearm and shoot several infected that were chasing a young couple with a child in tow.

"Find a building," he yelled at them. "Go up stairs. They can't climb well. Be quiet and stay out of sight and you'll be safe."

"Thank you!" the young woman called as the trio headed for a nearby building. Tim shot on. He prayed they would be alright but he couldn't do anything more for them right now. He had to get to Delilah.

There, up ahead he saw their apartment complex. My God there seemed to be infected everywhere. Thank goodness they were rarely the speedy zombies of so many films. Some DID move quicker but they were uncommon and could still be outrun for a short distance anyway. Enough probably to get out of sight.

He was forced to slow down as he entered the complex. Twice infected came close enough he had to kick them away. They staggered after him. Others followed. He took the long way around to reach the stairs and ramps, circling the parking lot while thinking he must look like Columbus in Zombieland as he ran around the gas station parking lot in Garland, Texas. Satisfied that they were falling back for now he suddenly cut over to the stairs.

Good Lord the ramps seemed even narrower that usual. They had been added on by building management after a pointed suggestion from Tim as well as another two handicapped people who felt the elevators could not always be depended on especially if there was a power failure. A reminder that the building's mortgage was backed by a US Government business loan which might be called into question if the facility was found to be violating the Americans with Disabilities Act brought on the requested action.

It had seemed sufficient at the time. To allow for a gentle enough slope the ramps ran the entire length of each floor, rising to meet an access opening to the walkway around each floor. Therefore he was going to have to go the full length of three floors, switching back and forth, to reach their apartment. They should have gone ahead and bought the house they wanted but had put if off because of its distance from their workplaces as well as their determination to accumulate a very large down payment.

Well, too late to worry about that Tim, he scolded himself as he started up the first ramp as cautiously as he could. That really wasn't that cautious though. He needed to get up there, get Delilah and get back down before the pursuing infected found their way up the ramps.

He reached the first landing, using its bigger area to turn the bike and start up again. When he reached the second one it became apparent that either some of the zombies had found their way up the ramps or had been infected up there. He didn't want to shoot, guns made noise. He managed to dodge two and kick the third over the railing. He'd deal with those two others on the way down.

He had reached their floor. The door popped open and Delilah wheeled herself into the doorway. She grabbed him around the waist and with a helping hand of his pulled herself up behind him. Using one hand she got her leg over the seat and grabbed on.

"Let's go!" she instructed him.

"Your chair?"

"Leave it. There's no time."

Indeed there wasn't. He still had to go to the end of the floor to have room to turn the bike around. Barely managing to hang on he ran over two infected. He spun the bike, nearly losing control and then ran the prone bodies over again.

"Double-tap!" shouted Delilah.

Speaking of double-tap, she had her Sig out and was coolly dispatching the zombies that were too close to avoid. A crowd was gathering at the base of the ramps. He sped up, praying they could knock them aside and not upset the bike. He might could get it upright and back on it in time but he could never get Delilah behind him again before they were overcome. And it would be "they" because he would never leave her behind. There was a moment when he thought they were about to fail but an extra burst of speed saw them win free. They shot across the parking lot and out onto the street once more.

When they appeared to be clear he slowed down and stopped.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm good." She demonstrated by giving him a fierce hug. Even under the circumstances he loved it but she seemed rather lumpy against his back. He turned and nodded in approval. Delilah had a pack on her back and two large pouches whose straps crisscrossed her body and incidentally quite accentuated her breasts.

"Quit staring at my boobs," she grumbled and smacked him on the arm. "Save that for another time."

"What all do you have in there?" He asked.

"Pretty much all of our essential emergency supplies. Everything except water. Too bulky and heavy and for now we shouldn't need it."

"You're right. Let's get going." He checked the time and frowned. "We better hurry."

They roared off, heading now for the airfield where the others should be waiting.

"There's the river," Delilah pointed out. "Across it and then we're almost there."

Tim nodded and started to open the throttle wider. He had to slow down though to avoid a pair of wrecked cars and then a deep gouge in the road where a pickup had hit a trailer. Because of that they were nearly at a dead stop when there was a tremendous explosion and they were thrown to the ground.

"Delilah!" Tim ran to her the instant he managed to get back on his feet.

"I'm okay. What the hell just happened?"

Another explosion answered her, followed by yet another, both of them in the distance.

"Oh damn," the NSA analyst said. "They're really doing it!"

"What?"

"They're blowing the bridges. It's one of the stupid ideas the planners had for containing the infection."

"Well," Tim surveyed the area. "We're not going to be able to get to the airfield. We are in deep shit."

"I know."

(To be continued) 


	4. Chapter 4

Escape, Chapter 4 by patricia51

(Weeks later somewhere in rural Virginia near the North Carolina line)

Delilah stirred. Something tickled her nose and she wrinkled it. That didn't take away the urge to sneeze so she vigorously rubbed her nose until the urge passed. Satisfied, she yawned. That did it. Suddenly she sneezed. Loudly.

She used her hands to sit up in alarm as she came to full wakefulness. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was and then she remembered. She and Tim were attempting to work their way south to a refuge that they hoped their friends had already reached and were waiting for them. They had hidden out here, in the upper level of a barn when they had been forced by a wandering pack of infected to abandon their latest transport and run for their lives. Well, Tim had done the running with her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He had outdistanced the slow pursuers until they found this place and he had climbed the ladder to the loft carrying her. The hay was comfortable to sleep on but the morning sun had floated enough particles in the air to make her sneeze. It didn't help that sometime during she had burrowed down into the stuff as the temperature had fallen. There was a chill in the air this morning.

"Hey there," Tim's voice broke into her thoughts. He was standing on the ladder with just his head visible. She cocked her head slightly and took him in. He had always been neatly groomed and nicely dressed. Now look at him. His sun-lightened hair was reasonably short because they had both got in the habit of hacking it off with their one pair of scissors when it got long enough to be a nuisance. But shaving was out of the question.

Tim's beard was more scattershot than anything else. In some places it was quite dense in some places there hardly was any hair at all. He had tried shaving using the survival knife in their emergency equipment. Once. Delilah had used nearly half of their first aid supplies before she could staunch the bleeding.

They had both changed in other outward ways as well. They both were leaner, tanned and certainly more fit. Delilah's arm strength had grown remarkably, to the point that Tim had only needed to lift her high enough on the wooden ladder that led up here for her to clear the ground and she had pulled herself up hand over hand. And Tim's endurance was nothing short of amazing. Although they tried to find ways for her to ride; in a cart, on a bicycle, even in a wheelbarrow he usually had to provide the motive power. When confronted by the infected he could pick her up and carry her on his back for miles without stopping.

But the inside changes were even more pronounced. Tim's green eyes had always been open and expressive, full of interest and concern for those around him. Now they were hard, giving nothing away. Delilah felt at times looking into them was like looking into uncounted depths of ice. And she wouldn't be surprised to find that hers were just as hard as his. They had no choice. Not after what they had seen in the last month. To allow the full weight of everything they had seen and had to do would drive them to madness.

From the moment they had recovered from the explosion at the bridge their life together had been a constant struggle for survival. As she remembered Delilah gave a little grin, showing not everything had been apocalyptic. When Tim had recovered enough from the explosion he had called Gibbs to report their situation. There was no doubt that they were cut off from the airport and as she listened with Tim the MCRT leader admitted that the infected were breaking into the area and they would be forced to leave very soon.

Then he had asked "Delilah are you listening?" When she had replied in the affirmative he went on. "I've told Tim this before but now I'm telling you both. You do NOT have permission to give up. You do not have permission to fail to get to the safe zone. And most important of all, you do not have permission to die. So get going, you're burning daylight."

They had got going. It hadn't been easy or pretty. They had avoided the interstates and major highways that had almost instantly become clogged with frantic people trying to run somewhere, anywhere whether they had a destination in mind or not. Even on the side streets and back roads there had been more than one attempt to take their motorcycle. Two they had managed to avoid but the last one had required them to shoot their way clear of what was no less than an ambush.

Somehow they had made it out of the city into the countryside. People had already become scarce, whether from being infected or killed or simply barricaded in their homes as a last government broadcast had recommended before that radio station went off the air they had no idea. All that seemed to be out were the "Walkers" as they had heard another station dub the slow moving infected.

There had been one desperate firefight forced on them when they came upon a school bus surrounded by infected. The driver had stalled the bus trying to force through the group, who were now hammering on the windows and worse, on the folding doors at the front, which broke even as they came upon the scene. The driver was frantically trying to barricade the opening without much success to keep the zombies from the screaming children. Tim and Delilah had only exchanged only. There really wasn't any choice. They stopped. Tim hopped off the motorcycle after lowering the kickstand. Delilah, of course, remained on the bike, teetering slightly as she balanced herself. Then they started shooting.

Just like at NCIS it was one round one kill. Because of the bus they had to be extremely careful to hit their targets, lest a stray round hit a child. Fortunately at first the infected s limited attention was in front of them so the pair was able to pick off most of the ones on their side and eliminate the congestion at the bus door. But then the infected's attention turned and a larger group appeared from the other side of bus. Why they never figured out. Drawn by sound the children s' screaming should have all but drowned out the sound of gunfire. Was there still some spark of intelligence in the zombies that allowed them to realize that gunfire equaled danger? They had no idea.

Regardless the attackers should have overwhelmed them. Would have in fact had it not been for the roaring engine that announced the arrival of another motorcycle. The woman riding the bike stood it on its rear wheel as she charged the infected. Somehow she controlled the bike without hands, maybe by some form of telepathy or something, for she swept out a pair of angled kukri knives, one in each hand, as she plowed through the infected. Her arms seemed to windmill and heads went flying. Without releasing the knives she dropped the bike back to two wheels and spun it around the moment she cleared the now greatly reduced group. Another pass and the few remaining were handled by Tim and Delilah.

The woman stopped her bike next to Delilah, surveying the situation. Tim had hastened to check on the children and driver. He and the latter now had the hood of the bus up and were working on getting it restarted.

"Thanks," Delilah said to the woman. "They would have had us without you, and worse they would have had them." She nodded towards the children.

The woman sighed. "Glad to have helped but it seems like there's more people who need help than any of us can manage." She looked carefully at Delilah. "And even though you obviously can't stand or walk you were right in there fighting. Good for you." She nodded at Tim. "And good for your other half there."

"I'm Delilah McGee, once upon a time a DoD analyst. He's Tim, a special agent of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We're trying to make our way south to one of the Georgia barrier islands where hopefully a safe zone has been set up."

The woman shook hands with Delilah. "My name is Alice. Alice Abernathy, former Treasury agent and now ex-corporate security officer. I'm carrying information and samples from the lab I was security head for to the CDC in Atlanta."

The bus roared to life and Tim came over to be introduced.

"They're," he waved at the bus, "heading for a local high school where some members of the Virginia State Police and National Guardsmen are hopefully setting up a safe area. It's not far but I think we should ride escort."

The ride was uneventful. The trio approved of the high school. Surrounded on three sides by an artificial lake an already strong looking chain link fence was being hastily reinforced with concertina wire by the Guardsmen. They met with the three people in charge; the school principal, the senior State Trooper and the Guard unit commander and received their thanks and updates.

"Things are not looking rosy," confessed the State Trooper. "Governments are collapsing; National, State and local. We're on our own. The communications system is becoming very spotty. Most radio and TV stations are off the air. Most of what we get comes by short-wave radio."

"The good news is that the infection is no longer airborne. The virus is not destroying the eco-system and the infected do not seem to have some 'sixth sense' to draw them to the living. So we're not living in Resident Evil: Extinction. The bad news is that there's no telling how long the infected will continue to move about. A bite always results in infection; there is no vaccine or antidote.

"Not yet anyway," responded Alice. She held up the pack from her bike. "The corporate lab I was at was making remarkable strides when viral containment was breached. One of the researchers in a protective suit managed to get me this stuff before being attacked and killed by the infected in the lab. It's possible that CDC may be able to use this to develop one or the other."

Alice was on her way shortly, declining offers of assistance or respite. Tim and Delilah spent the night before going on. Not long after that the bike had broken down and they had been forced to go on foot, or at least Tim's feet. Abandoned cars were everywhere but nearly without exception they were out of gas. Their most recent acquisition had been a golf cart. Battery powered it was extremely quiet and had allowed them to bring along extra supplies but they had been forced to abandon it when the farm they had stopped at hoping to find a source for charging the batteries had proved to be filled with infected. Realizing that the only road in and out was blocked by virus carriers Tim had scooped her up and run for it, reaching this fortunately empty farm an hour or so later. They had snuggled in the loft, staving hunger off with a couple of energy bars from the packs they kept with them all the time. It wasn't the first time they had been forced to abandon a mode of transport in a hurry. It probably wouldn't be the last.

Delilah's nose twitched again. But this time it wasn't hay, it was the scent of food. Tim grinned.

"Ready for breakfast? Ham and eggs are waiting!"

"Oh my gosh yes."

Delilah pulled herself to the ladder. The two of them descended slowly and Tim carried her outside to an open brick fireplace where a wood bench was waiting. He handed her a tin plate and her fork from their joint mess kit and settled beside her with a matching breakfast.

Delilah inhaled with her eyes closed, and then slowly ate, enjoying each mouthful. Tim did the same and silence reigned as they ate. When finished she gave a sigh of contentment.

"What now?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about."

(To be continued) 


	5. Chapter 5

Escape, Chapter 5 by patricia51

(Goodness I had not planned for this to become an "M" rated story but once the opportunity for them to take a shower together appeared, well, I wouldn't think they would waste it just getting clean.)

"What now?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about."

Delilah studied her husband. "What are you thinking Tim?"

"I'm wondering if we should keep pushing on south or if we should think about holing up somewhere. Fall is leaving us behind and winter is coming on. Baring some kind of miracle we're obviously not going to get to Georgia before the snows start."

He continued. "We could keep going. Early this morning I snuck back to where we had to abandon the golf cart. I don't think we could retrieve it but the garage attached to the house here has a four wheeler that looks to be in good shape and even has a little trailer attached. Of course it would make a LOT of noise but it's pretty agile and we could possibly outrun any infected."

"Unless," Delilah pointed out, "we run into a large group like we did yesterday that had us blocked in."

"True."

"Or?" the pretty analyst asked.

"Or we could settle in here for the winter and start again in the spring. I've checked the house; it's vacant and showing no signs of damage. There are two stories so we can break down the lone stairway as a refuge in case of an attack we can't handle. We could take the ladder from the barn and if need be draw it up after us. The stove is gas as are the water heaters and the generator is propane as well. I checked the tank and it's near full. Obviously we would have to be careful running it to operate the water pump and such. Even though it's much quieter than a gas generator it still makes noise."

"The house is already off the ground two feet so we might be safe, or at least safer, by dismantling the two sets of steps up to the all around porch. There's a fireplace with an insert and you've already met the outside fireplace. But the best part is that the place is full of food. There's a coop for chickens, which is where the eggs came from, a smokehouse full of cured hams that me might get sick of eating someday in the future and an extremely well stocked pantry and basement storage."

"But no people?"

"No one. The place seems to have been abandoned for some time. There's dust everywhere and no sign of it being disturbed anywhere. You can bet I was very careful checking the basement and the smokehouse. But we seem to be alone here. And if someone shows up, well, we'll deal with that when it happens."

"I wish there was some way to let the others know that we're alright," Delilah said wistfully. "And for us to know that they are safe as well."

"I do too," admitted Tim. "They were, mostly anyway, when we last heard from them at that school."

As maintenance stopped the complex technological civilization they had lived in had begun to break down almost immediately. Included in that was the communication network. Cell phone towers stopped working. Phone lines and power lines collapsed, easy enough to fix at first but no one was available to do it. Even satellite phones were unreliable, electricity had become scarce and the internet, built to survive nuclear war, gave way without the human services it needed to stay running.

Places that had generators or other access to power hoarded the fuel needed to run them jealously. One form of communication that had come back was the shortwave radio; not only voice ham radio but even simpler Morse code telegraph key style. Before they had left the high school refuge a connection had been made with their hoped-for haven. It had been brief but hopeful. Planes had landed and their passengers made the crossing to the island including several loads from DC. The military had not appeared in strength ("another brilliant idea of the government shot to hell by real life" Delilah had commented.) but the infection there had been contained and it had been hoped the island would be cleared in short order. After that they had heard nothing directly although there had been an occasional rumor from other survivors met on the road or found barricaded here and there.

"So what do you think?" Tim prodded gently.

Delilah looked around. It was cooling off. There was no doubt that if they lingered here any length of time they would probably be stuck here for the winter. But if they did move on winter would come and could they get that much farther south? Would a hundred miles more make any difference and could they find another place as well stocked and apparently safe as this one?

Tim could see Delilah weighing the options. Having had his say he waited patiently for her. They needed to agree, whatever the choice might be.

"Stay here."

He touched her shoulder and then scooped her up. "We better get started."

There was a great deal of work to do, not the least of which was making the house as safe as possible. Things were helped immensely when Tim returned from a foray into a nearby town, triumphantly producing a wheelchair he had got from the pharmacy there. Being self-mobile again was a tremendous shot in the arm for her. It allowed her to do things around the house and help Tim as well. They fortified the windows and doors and converted the stairway to the second floor into a folding ramp that could be brought up quickly by a counter-weight system. Food was gathered into the house along with firewood. A hand pump to an old shallow well allowed them access to water without running the generator.

The generator was run sparingly, not only to conserve fuel but also to keep from drawing unwanted attention. With Delilah watching over him Tim circled the house and barn with trip wire alarms and dug a ditch across the drive. Two escape routes were planned, one on foot and the other to use the ATV they had found that was concealed under a tarp at the back door.

One eagerly awaited event came early one morning. Fog had blanketed the area. Although visibility was reduced to near nothing it also meant that sounds would be muffled and its direction indistinct. The generator was started. First the pump was run; followed by the hot water heater. Clothes were hurried into the washing machine and then the dryer. Finally came the prize. The shower was started and steam billowed from the bathroom.

Tim had come up with a tall plastic stool for Delilah and carried her to it. For a moment the pair simply reveled in the hot water before getting down to scrubbing off the dust and dirt of the last weeks.

"Oh good Lord," Delilah groaned in sheer pleasure. Her groan deepened as Tim turned her slightly and began to scrub her back.

"Don't stop there," she directed even as she bent her head forward to allow him to reach the back of her neck.

"Don't intend to," her husband returned, whispering in her ear. His lips moved from that ear to the other, dancing across the back of her neck as they did. His hands slid around her and she gasped as they cupped her breasts. Her nipples responded to the gentle tapping of his forefingers and she turned her head to capture his wandering lips with her own.

Still showering her with kisses Tim moved from behind his wife, his hands keeping hold of her breasts with his fingers teasing the stiff points. But when he started to work his way down her body she stopped him with an "Oh no you don't Tim. It's my turn." She grasped his hips and leaned forward. Before he could protest she engulfed him in her mouth and then he had no intention of protesting.

"Ahhhhh," he breathed as she ran her tongue over the helmet and then up and down the underside of his shaft. She teased the slit and then her lips slid over him, working their way down nit by bit until she held all of him. Pausing for a moment to inhale her head began to bob up and down the full length of him.

"Delilah, oh Delilah," he moaned. Since they had not had the opportunity to indulge themselves it didn't take long for him to reach climax. A gasped warning was ignored except that Delilah locked her lips on his shaft as it pulsated and released.

Tim found that orgasm or not he remained hard. Realizing it Delilah threw her arms around his neck. His hands ran down her back and cupped her rear end. He lifted her and his still rigid shaft parted her labia with its length. He wanted desperately to enter her but held back. They had no birth control and although they longed for children this was NOT the time to chance her getting pregnant.

A fleeting thought ran through his mind. "What do you call couples who use the rhythm method of birth control? Parents." So he rubbed himself up and down her slit. The distinct advantage of that was that he ground against her clitoris at the top of nearly every stroke. Soon it was her turn to shiver and plead. He crushed her against himself and she came in a long shuddering delightful orgasm.

They managed to finish actually scrubbing down and Tim carried her to the centrally located room they had picked as the safest one in the house. It could be quickly barred off and Tim had opened another way to the second story complete with a ladder that could quickly be drawn up. They ate a quick hot meal and Tim shut down the generator. Distant thunder heralded an oncoming storm but they were warm and comfortable under their blankets on the thick mattress they had positioned in front of the fireplace. A banked fire in the stove insert cast a glow over them and they fell asleep even as the rain began to fall outside.

It was hours later but seemed like minutes when Delilah shook Tim. Conditioned by their time on the road he came instantly awake.

"What is it?" he said softly.

"There's someone out there."

"Infected?"

"I don't think so but I don't know why."

Both of them had grabbed the pistols near to hand as soon as they awakened. Delilah propped herself up as Tim carefully padded to the door. He listened. Carefully opening it on its well lubricated hinges he slipped through it as she pulled herself up into her wheelchair.

Delilah waited, her eyes fixed on the door and her Sig ready in her hand. She heard soft noises and then amazingly enough Tim's voice, low pitched but audible. She heard his footsteps return and he stuck his head in the door.

"You are never going to believe this."

(To be continued)


	6. Chapter 6

Escape, Chapter 6 by patricia51

"You are never going to believe this."

Delilah cocked one eye at her husband but any retort was swallowed in amazement as Tim ushered two girls in through the door. He carefully closed and barred the door. Twice he raised his hands, obviously wanting to lay a comforting hand on each one's nearest shoulder before lowering them again.

His caution was obviously warranted. The duo looked like feral cats, ready to hiss and scratch at the slightest provocation, real or imaginary. What they had seen, lived through and lost could hardly be imagined. She firmly thrust aside questions for the moment. She tucked her pistol beside her and rolled forward.

"Hello," she said softly as she smiled. "I'm Delilah McGee. I guess you have already met my husband Tim."

Nods answered her. Now that she was closer and could see better her heart nearly broke. Every face bone of both girls stood out, giving them a nearly cadaverous look. Obviously they hadn't eaten much of anything in a long time. Their clothing was ripped, soaked through and unbelievably soiled. But they were alive.

She and Tim had encountered only a few survivors and even fewer had been children. Granted the occupants of the occasional barricaded farm or house rarely showed passers-by like themselves everything they were keeping safe, probably sometimes including children but they had seen practically none in weeks. Her eyes misted as she recalled the last one they had encountered. Dragging a stuffed bear in one hand she had been infected. Tim nearly missed because of the tears in his eyes when he did what had to be done.

To find two girls alive in all this was astounding. In fact the only word that fit was "miracle". She rolled around the bedding laid on the floor. Interest and perhaps even surprise flicked in both pairs of deep blue eyes as they studied her wheelchair. She stopped in front of them, looking first at one then the other. She spread her arms and both girls launched themselves into those arms.

The hardest part was NOT crushing them in her grip. She could feel bones sticking out that seemed to be barely covered in skin drawn too tight. But she didn't want to let them go and by the way they held on to her the feeling was mutual.

"Tim, food." She thought quickly. "Hot soup, some of that chunky kind with potatoes and vegetables and find some crackers. And water," she added to her husband's already rapidly retreating back as he all but ran for the kitchen. In very short order he was back juggling two steaming bowls, a plate of saltine crackers with some cheese and a pair of mugs.

The girls didn't want to let go of Delilah but they did turn their faces towards Tim. Carefully, spoonful by spoonful he fed them; first one than the other back and forth until the bowls were empty and the plate of crackers and cheese had been reduced to crumbs. It took some time and Delilah marveled at Tim's patience as he knelt on the floor in front of them.

Finally fed it was time for the next step. Delilah blessed the fact that they had let the water tank outside and the hot water heaters build up completely before shutting down the generator. Sending Tim on a hunt for clothing she rolled herself and her two passengers to the bathroom.

There was an amazing sound, a sound that lifted her heart. The smaller girl was almost inaudibly giggling and making little "Vroom, vroom" sounds as she and the other girl rode on the arms of Delilah's chair. And was that the hint of a smile on the older girl's face? It looked like it.

The bathing went much quicker than her recent shower with Tim had. Hair was washed and the girls scrubbed themselves clean. Tim had piled extra towels along with t-shirts roomy enough to serve as night shirts outside the bathroom door. By then the girls were yawning so much Delilah wasn't sure they wouldn't have to be carried back to bed. But they managed to walk.

Glances between the two adults settled the sleeping arrangements without the need for words. Tim had already dragged a battered recliner from the wall and positioned it between the bedding and the door. She noticed with approval that he was displaying his badge prominently. Hopefully that would go a long way towards getting the girls to trust him. He did help her out of her wheelchair and then retreated to his sleeping spot after a not nearly long enough good night kiss. The two girls snuggled against her, one on each side and Tim returned long enough to shake a blanket over the three of them. In short order all three were asleep.

Delilah woke several times in the night. Each time she verified that the small forms next to her were not a product of her imagination. She also caught the firelight reflecting from a pair of open watching eyes across the room. She smiled. Tim was watching over them all.

The excitement made her sleep late in the morning. She opened her eyes to an enticing aroma. Tim had made coffee.

There wasn't much of that to be found and the one can they had located here was guarded as jealously as though it were gold. Come to think of it much more so as gold right now was pretty much as valueless as money was. But coffee now, mmmmm.

They had even discussed not drinking any at all. Tim had pointed out that they had already gone through withdrawal from caffeine and starting the addiction over again didn't make any sense. Delilah agreed and then with a completely straight face offered to spare him that plight by drinking all the coffee by herself "lest you be tempted". He decided it was better to give in.

Without the generator there was no electricity and they couldn't turn it on every time they wanted coffee so they had become proficient at making coffee on the stove; heating water and then pouring it through the open top of the coffee maker they had found. If not perfect it was better than no coffee at all they both agreed.

Mingled with the coffee aroma was that of ham. Delilah supposed that indeed they would get sick of it before the winter was over but for right now it was still mouth watering. She knew there would be eggs and another whiff told her Tim had opened a bag of corn meal from the cellar. It all struck her as very good.

She was alone. Soft little voiced drifted from the kitchen. Apparently the way to the girls' hearts was through food. She reached out, snagged her wheelchair and pulled herself into it. Smiling she rolled into the kitchen, grinning at the sight of Tim wearing an apron and the two waifs standing beside him and intently watching his actions.

"Good morning," Tim said, stepping over to kiss her. Returning to his post at the stove he looked at the girls beside him. Bathed and fed and in clean clothes they appeared to be older than Delilah had thought last night. Then she had figured eight to ten; now she guessed closer to eleven or twelve.

"This," a tilt of his head indicated the blonde girl on his right, "is Dahlia. And this," he tilted the other way to the brunette, "is Angela."

"Hello again you two," Delilah smiled. "I'm Delilah."

"Like the woman in the Bible?" asked Dahlia curiously and with a hint of alarm.

"The same name but I like to think I'm a little bit better a person than she was. Even," she looked thoughtful for a moment, "even though I HAVE given my husband Tim there a haircut more than once." She filed away the information that Dahlia had apparently been raised in a religious family. Interesting.

The girls giggled. So it seemed that Angela was familiar with the Old Testament story as well. More interesting.

"Who's ready for breakfast?" asked Tim.

"Me! Me!" the girls chorused, dancing with excitement. At the same time they continued to speak very softly. Obviously they had been taught or had learned on their own, a thought that made Delilah want to cry, that being quiet was a survival skill in this new world.

Well it was the world they all had to live in. They hadn't picked it but it was the only game in town. She shook herself and returned to the here and now. And breakfast. Between the two of them she and Tim managed to keep the girls from stuffing themselves to the point of becoming sick by promising to break the meal down into some now and some in a couple of hours.

Glances between the two adults let them both know they were in agreement. No matter how both of them were bursting with curiosity as to how the pair of them had arrived at their door as well as their back story or stories they knew they would have to wait until the girls opened up on their own. Perhaps there would be a need for questions later but right now the most important thing was to let them know they were safe and cared for.

(To be continued)


	7. Chapter 7

Escape, Chapter 7 by patricia51

(Sometime in the Spring in the northern part of South Carolina)

(Note: Yes the girls come from "Resident Evil" series of movies. Angie is from "Apocalypse" and Dahlia (K-Mart's real first name as revealed in the movie's novelization) in "Extinction")

"This is what we get for taking a chance on the Interstate," Delilah thought.

Okay, it was another of those "it seemed like a good idea at the time" things. Having survived the winter in their retreat in North Carolina along with what were now their two children they had been impatient to get back on the road heading for Georgia and the rest of the team. Besides, she acknowledged, a worry of hers back when they had first decided to wait out the cold months on the deserted farm had come true.

If she NEVER saw another ham it would be too soon.

Okay that was probably the most ridiculous complaint she could ever imagine having. She remembered a scene from one of those zombie movies with a man shaking labelless cans and saying "Pork and Beans". It didn't show if he was right. But seriously, ham for breakfast, ham for dinner and ham for supper. Tim HAD warned her.

They had laid low several times as bands of infected had wandered near the house. Ditches backed by fencing had channeled most of them away, content to keep moving on as they seemed to be as long as they didn't pick up any hint of the living being nearby. Once the snow had started falling it had been even safer. Tim's reconnaisance of the perimeter indicated that the infected became basically immobile in the cold. That was the good news. The bad was that as the weather warmed they seemed to come back to active status.

They had pretty much stayed in the house the entire time. Occasionally the girls had helped Tim bring in firewood or other supplies from the outbuidings and care for the chickens. Those didn't survive the winter. Well, chicken WAS a change fro ham. They did miss the eggs though.

The time had not been wasted. Tim and Delilah worked hard to maintain the muscle tone they had acquired on the road. They had made plans for the future. Tim had improvised a radio receiver made up of parts from different electronics. The airwaves were a little more alive now than they had been during the height of the pandemic. Most of the stations were amateur but there were a few military broadcasts and at least one news radio station from somewhere in the mid-west.

The infection was definitely no longer airborne a CDC broadcast assured them. The only way to become infected was through contact, that is, being bitten. A scratch could possibly result in infection if bodily fluis such as blood or saliva from the infected were conveyed to the wound. Best of all there was no "Walking Dead" scenario. Only the infected carried the virus, it was NOT universal. There was still no andidote or vacinne as of yet but all efforts were being aimed at that.

The military, after having been rocked back on their heels (just like we predicted Delilah had sighed) and some bases had been overrun, generally from inside. Ruthless counter-measures had been taken; senior commanders had thrown the government plans in the trash and had taken charge using what they had learned from their staffs and own eyes. Where possible troops had returned to using heavier rifles, M14's and even old M1 Garands whose .308 and 30.06 cartridges generally resutled in single shot kills. As much as possible additional body armor had been improvided. Slowly they were expanding the various safe areas set up around the nation.

Enough elected and appointed officials had relocated to Navy ships at sea (well I guess someone did watch "World War Z" Tim had commented) to keep the continuity of the US Government going. They were trying to provide assistance and support as possible but they didn't have much to work with. Some areas of the country had been completely written off, including almost all of the major cities. But there were islands of survivors all over.

The most heartening piece of news cam when against all odds they made contact with their friends. Their cell phones, brought along simply from force of habit, had long since died. But on one of Tim's surreptitious visits to the nearby infected haunted town he had found a universal charger and brought it back. When the generator was running they had electricity to spare and had recharged their phones. More as a gesture of hope than anything else they periodically tried their friends' phones. And one day Tony answered his.

"Tim? Delilah? My God is that you?"

"It's us Tony. Safe and sound for the moment anyway." Tim went on to describe their whereabouts and plans to continue south in the Spring. "How are things there?"

"Well there aren't any good Italian resturants within any driving distance at all but other than that things are okay. The island is clear as are several other ones nearby. In fact the hardest part of this trip was getting off the planes."

"How come?"

"Before we even came to a stop people were pouring on to the runway. They tried to take the planes, waving clubs and guns, making threats and offering money. We didn't care what happened to the planes by then but we could hardly get off in face of the crowds trying to get on. We managed somehow and then unloaded our supplies. There were abandoned cars and trucks all over the place, including some right by the planes for us to commandeer. As we were leaving we heard gun battles begin to break out as people fought over the planes."

The couple could almost see Tony's head shaking in sadness. "The thing was is most of them had no destination in mind. They just wanted to get out of there, sure that any other place muct be safer. I don't think any of those planes ever went anywhere."

"Even worse as it turned out the infection there was minimal. Not like we saw in DC. The small towns in the area had established barricades and the local law enforcement plus armed citizens were holding their own. We made our way to the ferry that took us to Cumberland. "

"Anyway, the infection here was non-existant. Jimmy, Breena and Victoria were already here and settled into the resort hotel on the north end of the island. Pretty cushy. We're all set up along with some National Guards. We have established a waiting area for new arrivals where they have to stay, monitored of course, for a week to make sure there are infected among them. So far so good."

"Gibbs is off on the mainland on a supply run." They heard him chuckle. "Also, being a small town boy he, along with Jake of all people are taking their turn at helping the crops get planted this Spring." Tony turned serious again. "After all, sooner or later all the canned goods are ging to run out and we all know it. So self-sufficiency is the keyword."

"I wish we could swoop over there and get you. There are a few helicopters still flying but we don;t have any here and they're being carefully controlled."

They talked for a few more minutes and then the connection was lost and they never got it back. But knowing that their friends were safe and there was really a sanctuary awaiting them boosted their spirits no end.

But the major thing they had done over the winter months as get to know the two children they had inherited. They tried not to push, realizing how much hurt and loss the two must have buried.

Dahlia seemed to have come from a standard middle-class or upper middle-class family; mother, father, and siblings; all of whom had been lost in the collapse. Angela was an only child who had lost her mother early in life. She had been raised by her father, who was wheelchair bound. That had created an instant afinity between her and Delilah. They did find out Angela, or Angie as she preferred to be called, had lost her only living parent not to the infected but rather to a band of rioters attempting to sack their home.

Neither Tim nor Delilah had any background in teaching but both were well and broadly educated. It was obvious that Dahlia was gifted intellectually but Angie probably fell into the genius range. It turned out her father was not only a scientist but a well-known researcher in several fields of biology and genetics and even at Angie's young age had brought her in on some of his work.

Delilah especially found it interesting that Angie could recall reading her father's papers and what they said and Dahlia remembered minutiae about her room at home but both had blocked the events that had led them to discovering each other in the woods. Starving, they cast caution to the winds when they heard the sound of the generator and approached the house. They had nearly ran when they saw Tim but his obvious concern had persuaded them to come in. When they saw Delilah in her wheelchair, just as Angie's father had been required to use, with her arms open they had run to her, trusting in her completely. Delilah had sworn to herself that trust would never be betrayed.

They had spent the winter learning about each other. Together they had expanded the girls' survival skills. Tim had treked to the small town and rummaged through the hardware store until he triumphantly came home with two 38 caliber snub-nosed revolvers and a good stock of ammunition that had been kept in a back storeroom. A consideable amount of time was spent teaching the girls to shoot.

"Sweethearts," Tim had begun the actual shooting phase, "a well-known author once pointed out that if you're not close enough to hit someone with a snub-nose than your target is out of range. It's not quite that bad but these are purely to defend yourselves. We're going to learn instinct shooting. You won't use the sights; you'll simply point the gun like you would point your finger. Don't worry, you'll hit where you point."

Well rested, well trained and well-equiped they had set out with the first of Spring. Tim had found another four-wheeler in town and had carefully and cautiously got it ready. They had also rigged the one at the farm so it only used hand controls. They had roared into town where Tim and Dahlia had leaped onto the second four-wheeler and the foursome had shot out before the still chilled infected could react.

Amazingly the portable GPS continued to fix their position. The satelites were still up there and running. They stuck to back roads when possible, darting to abandoned service stations and conveinance stores to refuel and resupply. Eventually they reached I-95.

"The highway here isn't that choked," commented Delilah. "Think we can find a truck or SUV still working and gassed?"

As it turned out they did, a crew cab four-wheel drive truck. There was no sign of the previous owner, alive, dead or infected. A bonus came in the form of a trailer they loaded the four-wheelers on.

"Things will probably get bad around Columbia. This way if we have to abandon the truck we can keep going."

The going was still slow to avoid wrecks and abandoned vehicles. They came up on a jack-knifed eigthteen wheeler that had gathered such a pile-up around it that the way seemed impassable. Since they had not seen any infected for miles and it was getting dark they decided to pull off the road and make camp.

Delilah sheppered the girls out of sight to go to the bathroom while Tim fired up the camp stove to make some soup and quickly fry some (Delilah desperately smothered a moan) ham. They ate quickly. While the girls cleaned up Tim took a quick look at the pile-up to see if anything there was usable to be found.

He grew a little uneasy when he saw that the interior of the first vehicles he inspected had been picked clean. Returning quickly to the others something caught his eye. He stooped to check under the nearest car. The gas tank had been punctured to drain it.

ALl this was normal to do but it still was setting off alarm bells. Had everything in this barricade been done like that? Why did that word pop up in his mind? Barricade?

"Crap!"

The trio loading everything back into the vehicle looked up at Tim's exclamation. His hand swept for his weapon. He was too late. A footstep sounded behind him he ducked and tried spin around. Something hard struck him. Because of his movements the blow to the back of his head was not as direct as was intended but it still was hard enough to make him see stars. He fell to the ground dazed, with his pistol still not drawn.

Through the darkness closing in he saw a man go past him and two more appear out of the darkness. They were grimey and unshaven. Unable to move he hoped that his ace in the hole would come through. All three of them in fact. Then he lost consciousness.

(To be continued)  



	8. Chapter 8

Escape, Chapter 8 by patricia51

(Note. Warning! Mentions of rape and attempted rape in this chapter.)

Delilah came close to panicking as she ever had when she saw the figure rise up behind her husband and strike him over the head. She firmly reined herself in; even as two other figures joined the first and came out into the fading light. And they weren't the type to inspire confidence in their good will.

All three were dirty and unshaven. But it was the look in their eyes, all of their eyes that scared Delilah the most. Not only were they looking at her like she was something to fall on but they were also looking at the girls the same way.

The girls saw it as well. Delilah filed that away in her memory to be taken out and examined when the situation was right. It wasn't right now but it seemed obvious to her both girls had been abused sometime in the past. Both shrank back against her.

"Mommie," Dahlia moaned. Angie whimpered.

"Tasty," leered the man who had just struck down Tim. He hefted the lead pipe he had used. The others had knives and all three advanced.

"Damn, Frank. That one's in a wheelchair," complained one.

"So what? Just means she'll lay there and not try to get away. But I want some of that younger stuff myself," the leader replied.

Delilah tensed. At the same time she realized the girls weren't shivering in fear against her. It was anger. She saw it in their eyes. And determination. They weren't the ones about to be in trouble.

The leader grabbed Dahlia by the left arm. "C'm here. Don't worry none. You're gonna like it once you get used to it." He pulled the almost teen against him.

Dahlia's right arm jerked up. Delilah saw the cold blue of the snub nose in her hand as she shoved the revolver's muzzle under the man's chin.

"I didn't like it before and it's not going to happen again."

The shot was nearly muffled. The man's eyes bulged out from the hydrostatic shock of the soft lead bullet going through his head before exiting out the top of his skull and taking what few brains the man had with it.

Delilah already had her hand on her Sig, tucked between her side and the arm of her wheelchair where none of the attackers had seen it. She brought it up smoothly into a two handed grip. Her target was still gaping at his leader when she fired twice into his chest.

The third man hesitated, shocked by the sight of his two companions suddenly dying before his eyes. Delilah swung her Sig towards him just as Angie drew her own thirty-eight. Dahlia's arm shot out as she stepped away from her late attacker. Four shots rang out in one long blast and the last of the would be rapists fell backwards, dead before he hit the ground.

For as moment the world was still. The girls swept the downed attackers and the immediate area for any signs of danger. Delilah was doing the same. Satisfied the danger was passed she nodded.

Dahlia immediately ran to Tim. She knelt beside him.

"Daddy?"

Tim groaned. The girl helped him sit up, checking the gash on his head as she did.

"I'm alright. I think."

Angie had turned to Delilah. "Mom? Are you okay?"

Dahlia held on to Tim, supporting him as they came over to the other pair. The now admitted family enjoyed a long group hug before turning to business. Delilah examined Tim while the girls finished the cleanup and reloaded the vehicle.

"For a change," the woman teased her husband, "you're right. Fortunately you managed to move just enough to turn that blow into a glancing one. Good thing. That guy meant to kill you. But it's still a nasty cut and bump. Not bleeding as much though as that time you tried to shave with your knife."

With Tim's head bandaged and the gear stowed they got ready to go. Tim hesitated after opening the driver's door.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Hope so. Beginning tomorrow we start teaching the girls. But I was thinking. Those guys could not have come very far from their own camp. Should we look for it and see if there's anything there we could use?"

"Or," Delilah said firmly, "we could find their ten buddies wondering where their friends got to and thinking they should all come over this way and see."

It might have been over-wrought imaginations or it might have been senses sharpened by adreniline. Regardless all four of them heard a scrape of something against the concrete nearby. With that Tim was in the truck, had the engine going and the vehice turned around and heading the other way in record time. The otehrs were already waiting when he jumped had in.

Five miles down the road they came to an exit and pulled under the overpass. A quick check of the area turned up exactly nothing alive, infected or not. Weapons were cleaned, checked and fully reloaded. With that the girls curled up in their seats, insured their doors were locked and went to sleep.

Normally Tim and Delilah would alternate keeping watch out on the road unless they had found someplace they considered absolutely safe. After being dazed by the blow to his head Tim needed to stay awake in case he had a concussion and Delilah stayed awake to make sure he did.

Once they were sure that the girls were sound asleep they talked quietly.

"That was as close as we've come in a long time," Delilah said softly.

"I know," Tim returned, wincing slightly as he tried to find a comfortable position without touching the aching sore spot to the head rest. He settled for resting on his right side facing her. "Gibbs would head slap me for sure. I lost situational awareness."

"Because we've been thinking only about the infected as dangers. It's been a long time since we had to face human adversaries and in both of those cases it was someone hysterical trying to seize our motorcycle because they had crashed their own means of flight. Not that they probably had any idea where they were going. But neither time was a cold-blooded robbery attempt simply to see what we had and take it."

"Gibbs always said the scum rise to the surface in situations like this. I'm just glad you kept your head."

"And the girls. Both of them." Delilah glance at the back seat. "I don't know if you heard what Dahlia said to her would be rapist." When her husband shook his head she went on. "She said 'I didn't like it before and it's not going to happen again.' She then blew his brains out. She just used his pulling her to him to get close. So while she paid attention when you taught them armed defense I have no doubt this wasn't the first time someone attacked her."

Tim's eyes smouldered. "I was already glad they're dead. Now I wish I could shoot them all over again. Men who do things like that don't even deserve to be called men."

"I know. And I hate that Dahlia, and probably Angie too based how how quickly she shot and the look I saw on her face, have had to live through things like that. But they have and all we can do is do our best to make sure they never have to experience anything like that again."

They were quiet for a little while, each reaching out a hand to the other and lacing fingers. The moon was down and he could somehow feel more than see her smile.

"What did you think when Dahlia called you 'Daddy'?"

"The same thing I bet you felt when Angie called you 'Mom.' Wonderful."

"We always wanted a family. Now it looks like we have one."

A muffled cheer came from the back seat. The vehicle shifted. Two heads poked between the front bucket seats and kisses were carefully place on cheeks. Just as carefully Tim and Delilah hugged their new daughters and returned top-of-the-head kisses. Happy sighs were shared all around.

"Sneaks," Delilah pretended to grumble. "Honey we'll have to watch out for that. Letting us think they're asleep and eavesdropping on their parents."

Giggles were the only reply from the girls.

"Okay," Tim said. "Go on, go to sleep for real. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Yes Daddy."

"Sleep tight," Delilah commanded. "We love you both."

"We love you too Mom, Dad."

Delilah cat-napped the rest of the night, jeeping an eye on Tim. At first light she sat up and carefully scanned the area. Nothing was out of place.

Just then something banged on the top of the vehicle. All four occupents came wide awake, guns drawn.

"What was THAT?"

(To be continued)


	9. Chapter 9

Escape, Chapter 9 by patricia51

"What was THAT?"

Two adults and two near teens suddenly were holding pistols and scanning the roof of their truck. The sound had not been loud but had unmistakably been that of something landing on top of the vehicle.

"Don't try shooting through the roof," whispered Tim. "Or the windows. They provide protection. If we need to shoot something outside crack the windows just enough for the muzzle to clear before firing. It will also help save your hearing. Fired inside the car the sound can deafen you. And us."

Scratching noises came from above as though someone was dragging fingernails along the metal. Tim pointed at Delilah and made motions that she interpreted as him wanting her to make some noise on her side of the car. She nodded. He grasped the door handle and gathered himself.

Delilah tapped on the window with the butt of a spare magazine for her Sig. Immediately Tim launched himself from the vehicle. He shut the door with a nudge of his hip; slamming his arms down on the car roof pistol first.

The three inside held their breath. No one moved. Then Tim's hand appeared. His right hand. It found the door handle and pulled as he stepped back. In his left hand was a small yellow cat with white markings.

Gasps came from the back seat. "It's a kitten" Immediately there followed a stream of "Can we keep it? Please Mommy, please Dad, can we keep it? Please? Pretty please?"

Delilah cocked an eye at Tim. She knew how allergic he had always been to cats. Interestingly he seemed to show no sign of having a reaction. Knowing what she was thinking he simply shrugged; an "I-have-no-idea-either" shrug.

"Let's," Delilah temporized, "See if we can figure out how he," Tim peeked under a lifted tail and nodded, "came to be here. If he has a family here we shouldn't take him away."

The girls started to scramble out of the truck only to be brought up quickly by the adults.

"Careful girls," warned Tim. 'Stay with me. No farther away than arms length. And keep an eye on your mother." The new term for Delilah came perfectly natural to Tim's lips. And mind. There was no doubt they had become a family.

"Yes sir."

The trio quickly covered the immediate area. Still aching head or not Tim used the opportunity to start teaching the girls how to read for signs. Things he had learned in working crime scenes turned out to be quite useful in checking the area around safely.

"Nothing here," Tim said. He looked up. "It could have come from any direction and just hopped up on top of the truck or it might have jumped from this overhang." He pointed to a place of the overpass. "Let's see."

They carefully climbed up the grassy side; often looking back to make sure Delilah was still in sight and safe. As they reached the top Tim became aware of an uneasy feeling that he couldn't pin down.

"Always rely on your gut is what you taught me boss," he thought. Using surveillance techniques he flattened out and peeking between the now long and over grown grass on the side of the roadway. The girls copied him.

Everyone froze. A staggering line of infected was passing, going from an unknown origin to an unknown destination. Tim made no attempt to draw the weapon he had holstered, needing both hands to help get up the slope. Copying him again neither girl tried to reach for their revolvers. Obviously they had survived because they had learned that silence and stillness were key.

Down in the truck Delilah knew something was up when she saw the three members of her family stiffen into immobility. Quietly she eased her Sig from the holster now attached to the side of her seat. She held it ready and held her breath as well.

It seemed to take hours. It probably was not more than five minutes before Tim motioned for the girls to start working back down the slope. He demonstrated, keeping his body flat on the ground and pushing slightly with his outstretched hands. All together they wiggled until they were sure they were out of sight. They rose and running crouched over got back to the truck quickly.

Tim explained what they had seen.

"Fortunately they didn't turn down the 'On' or 'Off" ramps. But obviously we aren't going THAT way."

It seemed absolutely amazing at times that their GPS system, salvaged originally from Tim's SUV and carefully brought along still worked. The chaos that ruled the world stopped before it reached space and the satellites still worked. They hammered out a course. It would have to take them north for a while to avoid the infected pack as well as the barricaded Interstate. They hated to move away from their destination but it needed to be done.

Doors were closed and Tim started the engine. He noted to himself they would need to find gas soon. He shifted into Drive.

"Wait Daddy," Dahlia sat upright, looking around wildly with alarm on her face. "Where's the kitten?"

"Here sweetheart." Delilah lifted the animal from her lap, where it had taken up residence.

The two girls promptly put the cat between them where they could attempt to smother it with attention. The kitten didn't mind at all, snuggling down and showing its appreciation by purring loudly.

"I still don't understand Tim," said Delilah. "What about your allergies?"

"I have no clue honey. I did swipe some general purpose allergy medicines from the pharmacy in town before we left the farm just in case but so far I don't seem to be bothered at all."

They took the next exit. Four gas stations were here, one on each corner, two on their current side and the other two on the far side on the overpass. Tim slipped out of the driver s side as the three others rolled their windows down enough to shoot if needed.

"Don't let the kitten out," warned Delilah as the feline stood on his back legs and peeked out Angie's window. A debate had raged all day as to what to name the new arrival. No decision had been made; each of the females had their own favorite choice. Delilah suggested "Figaro", Dahlia liked "Muffin" and Angie wanted "Tigger". Tim had declared that he was absolutely sitting this one out thank you very much.

Tim found the stick and checked the gas level. Empty. So was the one across the street. They turned towards the other side. Halfway across the overpass Tim suddenly stopped.

"Do you hear that?"

Ears strained. Then Angie pointed out her side.

"Dad it's another vehicle coming. On the Interstate. From the South."

Before and behind them were clear. From long practice Delilah was out and in her wheelchair almost as fast as the other three. Looking over the concrete railing they saw the oncoming vehicle. It was a black SUV of some kind. A pointed black steel plow, angled to both sides, was fastened to the front.

That the plow was often used could be seen from the numerous scrapes and scratches on it. The driver must have been in a hurry, the vehicle was roaring down the road and rather than doing much going around of abandoned vehicles he simply bumped them out of his way. Without slowing.

Unsure of who might be in there the McGee's all remained quiet and concealed. The vehicle, which Tim recognized now that it was closer as a Cadillac Escalade thundered under them and kept going, giving no sign that the occupant or occupants had seen them. They watched until it disappeared over a rise and was gone.

"Well that was strange," remarked Delilah as they returned to their vehicle.

"It had a number three painted on the door in white," Angie said.

"Dale Earnhardt," Dahlia said.

"What?"

"NASCAR. Dale Earnhardt drove number three until his death." Dahlia looked thoughtful. "He drove a Chevy though, not a Cadillac. Still, the driver must be a fan."

"I guess so," said Tim, making a mental note that one daughter came from a NSCAR family. They drove on.

The third station was also dry. A worried glance at the gas gauge told Tim what he already knew; they had between a quarter and an eighth of a tank of gas. The cans strapped on the trailer were dry.

They still had the four wheelers and if those failed eventually, well, they had walked before and it wouldn't be surprising if they ended up walking again. In the meantime he wasn't giving up.

The fourth station threw him. The usual connector set into the concrete pad near the pumps that led to the underground tank simply didn't seem to exist. Obviously it did exist, it had to. But where was it?

Tim's thoughts were wrenched in a different direction as Angie suddenly cried out.

"Tigger! Come back here!"

Everyone else had climbed out of the truck to help look, leaving the doors open. Presented with that opportunity the kitten had decided to go for a stroll. The problem was that he headed around towards the back of the store with Angie in hot pursuit.

"Angie, NO!" commanded Delilah. "Stay with us." But the words fell on deaf ears. Delilah bit a curse word in half and rolled herself after the girl. Tim sprinted around the other side, drawing his weapon with Dahlia right behind him. But nobody expected Angie's next words.

"Hello there. Who are you?"

(To be continued)


	10. Chapter 10

Escape, Chapter 10 by patricia51

"Hello there. Who are you?"

Delilah spun around the corner. Her wheelchair threatened to tip over, especially since her right hand gripped her Sig. Tim came in sight from the other side, his weapon in a two handed grip and searching for a target. Dahlia was right behind him, covering her dad with her thirty eight gripped the same way but with the muzzle lifted in the air as Tim had taught her.

All three stopped short in amazement. Tim managed to tear his eyes from the immediate scene before them and sweep the surroundings before returning his attention the same sight that had his wife and daughters fascinated.

Crouched in a corner created by the back of the building and a low concrete block wall that seemed to have once been part of a place to put trash containers was a slight figure. Knees drawn up it was almost impossible at first to tell if the figure was a boy or a girl. For that same surprised moment fear went through both adults that they might have encountered another infected child.

But Angie had already seen what the others spotted after they took a closer look. The figure was that of a little girl, probably a couple of years younger than Angie and Dahlia. Cradled in two skinny arms a certain loudly purring yellow kitten was being rocked back and forth.

The child had not yet replied to Angie's greeting. Tim and Delilah moved closer, listening to the girl who seemed to be speaking to the cat. It was a strange clipped monotone. Startled they exchanged looks.

"She's deaf!" exclaimed Delilah.

Sounds the little girl might not catch but obviously she was sensitive to movement. Something, probably Angie or her shadow caught her attention. She sprang to her feet, a look of fear on her face. At the same time she clutched the kitten even closer as though it could protect her. Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the foursome and looking for a possible escape route. Realizing that two of the approaching people were girls nearly her age she seemed to relax. She spoke.

"I'm Becky. Who are you?"

Tim and Delilah were baffled. Neither of them knew American Sign Language. How were they going to communicate? It was Angie who saved the day. She came closer and slowly, hesitantly, signed as she spoke.

"I'm Angie. This is my sister," pointing at Dahlia, "and these are our parents." she indicated the two adults. She grinned. "and that,' she nodded to the kitten, "is Tigger."

"Tigger," a smile crossed the new found girl's face as she looked down.

"No fair," grumbled Dahlia who realized that she had been out maneuvered.

"Angie, you stay with," Delilah gave in as well, "Becky and Tigger. Dahlia help your father and I check out the store. I think for right now we need to get inside. After you pull the truck around here out of sight Tim. Then we need to have a serious talk and find out just how Becky came to be here."

Once the truck was out of sight from the road Delilah guarded the doorway and kept watch on Tim and Dahlia as they cleared the store. It made her sad and proud at the same time. Proud of how capable and careful her adopted daughter was, covering her father as they worked as a team, quickly but thoroughly checking each aisle, each possible hiding place and then the back room and coolers. Proud of how well Tim had taught her and her sister over the long winter days to be prepared for this and the other tasks that they thought might confront them. Sad because no twelve year old girl should have to act in the role of a trained police officer in what could instantly turn into a life-or-death situation.

"Clear."

"Clear Daddy."

The store had been looted, probably more than once but it was unoccupied by anyone; living, dead or infected. And it appeared that the looting had tended to concentrate on the beer, wine, cigarettes and junk food. There was a lot of bottled water and the storeroom proved to have a small stock of canned goods under an overturned shelf.

The outside area behind the store proved to have two very important finds. Tim finally discovered the cover leading to the underground tanks. Why it was where it had been placed was a mystery but a good one for checking showed a great deal of gas still available, easily within reach of the hose of the portable hand siphon that had been part of their gear since before they escaped DC. Shortly the truck and the formerly empty five gallon cans were full.

The second discovery was of a water tank mounted on the roof still more than half full and heated by the sun. There was enough for everyone to clean up. Tim and Delilah had to be satisfied with looks and silent promises and memories of other showers together. Tim mounted guard out front while Dahlia and Angie helped Becky clean up. Both adults hearts were lifted listening to the soft laughter and giggles as the three girls help scrub each other clean. Angie was closer to Becky's size so a spare outfit of hers went to the new arrival. There was just enough water left to wash clothes, which were hung around the inside of the store to dry.

Tigger, incidentally, spent that period of time safely closed up in the store. He immediately sprang back into Becky's arms when they all came in. As much as the deaf girl loved having the little cat in her arms when bed time came she shared custody with Dahlia and Angie. Tigger himself was quite happy with the situation as he had gorged himself on a found can of cat food and was very sleepy.

The group had settled down in the storeroom. Safety was always the primary concern; with almost all of the windows smashed the store proper was anything but safe. The storeroom door was reasonably strong and the back exit was a metal door that barred. With the truck pulled up only feet away their escape route was immediately at hand.

"When in doubt, know your way out," Tim quoted.

"Rule 22," yawned Delilah, happy that a couple of cans of beef stew had let her off the ham wagon for at least one meal.

They slept well on piled up lawn chair cushions and late into the morning. After checking the main store and the surrounding area again they launched into two projects.

The first was to discover Becky's history. Angie had learned sign language as a little girl to enable her to converse with a deaf cousin. The more she used it with Becky the more it came back and became easier. The other three studied the pair as they signed and began to pick up the rudiments of it.

Becky's story was simple and sad. When the outbreak had become widespread her father had been away from home, on the other coast in fact, on business. When the infected began to multiply in their home town she and her mother had fled to a vacation cabin in the mountains owned by a cousin. Like the McGee's they had stayed there through the winter but had been forced to move on when their food supplies ran out. They had caught part of a broadcast on their car radio detailing safe zones and had decided to try for Cumberland.

She wasn't sure but thought it was only a few days ago that they had stopped at the same barricade the others had recently escaped from. While searching for a way around it they had been attacked. They had been caught by surprise with her mom's pistol left in the car. From the descriptions Tim and Delilah were sure it was the same three that had attempted to assault them.

More than once Becky broke down telling her story. Angie and Dahlia immediately rallied around her each time but it was Delilah that held her until she could continue. It became clear eventually that her mother had instructed her to run and keep going before launching herself at the men, producing a knife as she did.

"Rule Nine," popped into Delilah's mind. She peeked sideways at her husband whom she could see was having the same thought as their eyes met, both obviously recalling that night when Delilah having a knife had saved them.

Those shared thoughts took less than a second. Their attention never wavered from Becky as she admitted she had looked back and saw her mom try to stab one guy who hit her with a pipe. He hit her hard. She fell down and didn t move. Then all three guys started to chase her and she ran. She ran until she threw up and then she ran more. Somehow she got away. She kept going like her mom had told her. She had no idea how many days it had been it was all a fog. She vaguely remembered it raining and drinking water out of an old tin cup she had found. She couldn't remember eating but she had found this place.

Then she saw a vehicle and it was coming this way. She was sure the men had found her so she tried to hide. And then suddenly something jumped up on to her lap and it was a little yellow kitten and it just settled down and started purring. She didn't know what that meant for sure but she was sure God must have sent the kitten to her and when she saw everyone else she was sure of it.

While the girls hugged Becky and assured her she was a part of the family now Tim and Delilah drew off to talk.

"It certainly sounds like the same group."

"The last time it rained was eight days ago. No nine."

"That Escalade has come through since then. Heck since we were blocked there. So maybe there's a path there now."

"It's a faster and straighter line to Georgia than the route we were studying. But will going that way make things worse for Becky? Obviously she's our responsibility now. The odds of finding her father, even assuming that he's alive, are one in a million. So what are we going to do?"

"One thing at a time," Delilah said firmly. "Right now Becky needs reassurance and care and the knowledge that she's as safe as she can be. So for today and tomorrow and maybe more we're going to stay here and you are going to start following up on that idea you had the other day."

"What idea?"

"You my dear are going to start teaching Dahlia and Angie how to drive."

"Holy cow."

(To be continued) 


	11. Chapter 11

Escape, Chapter 11 by patricia51

(Weeks later, east of Columbia SC)

"Okay, and next?"

"Put it in 'Park'." Angie managed somehow to refrain from sighing. "Dad it's just like driving the truck."

"Honey the basics are the same but this is bigger, heavier and more powerful than the truck. It takes longer for everything: to start, to stop, to turn." Tim reached over and ruffled the brunette's hair.

"Daddy!"

In the van's second seat Delilah managed to suppress a giggle. Not just at the daughter in the driver's seat but at the one at the other end of this seat rolling her eyes because their father was acting so, well, fatherly. The former DoD analyst also managed not to shake her head. Zombie apocalypse or not the girls were rapidly approaching that age that no matter how much they loved their new father if they were still going to school they would be asking him to drop them off two blocks away.

"When will I get to learn to drive?" asked Becky. She wasn't exactly pouting but was near that.

"Soon, sweetie," Delilah signed. "We need to find something a little smaller and easier than this to start you out on though."

Stirrings behind her let Delilah know that the twins were waking up.

"Hey there," she turned in the seat. "Have a nice nap?"

"I did," yawned Peter. Wanda, always a little slower to wake up than her brother mumbled something indecipherable.

"Well, Tim announced. Night camp everyone. You all know what to do." He hopped out and helped Delilah get down into her wheelchair. The rest of the group poured out of the big van and scattered to do their assigned chores. Tim and Delilah carefully scanned the area once more to make sure it was as clear of any immediate danger.

This looked okay. They had swung off the interstate and dived into what was obviously a planned subdivision type neighborhood. There were two ways in and out, the one they arrived on and another that looped through a nearby shopping center and back to the highway. They had chosen a house that had been partially burned but with a semi-circular driveway that lead to the detached garage in back. Once they were satisfied the garage was empty Tim had pulled the van and trailer in, doing it himself because he really was the only one who could back up the ungainly combination. They left the door open for now.

The burned house had been picked for two reasons. There weren't going to be any infected in there and it was unlikely that any of the roving bands of looters would stop here when the nearby still standing houses would offer better pickings. She made a mental note that they needed some toothpaste and a few other items if there was a safe chance for them to explore.

She sighed as she looked at the five teens and near teens that were efficiently setting up camp. The family kept growing. Almost a month ago Becky had started calling her and Tim "Mommy" and "Dad". That was just about the time they had found Peter and Wanda. Thank goodness they had found the van first among the tangled wreckage that marked the Interstate north of Columbia. It had been awful.

(Approximately one month before)

They had been seeing more abandoned vehicles of all types as they had been making their way south. So many in fact that they had stopped pausing first at individual cars and then groups to check them. They had come over a rise and now there was no choice but to stop.

Far in the distance they could see a smudge on the horizon that must be Columbia. It was the same as all big cities. Even after nearly a year the cities were still burning. And the stalled lines of vehicles beginning to rust reminded them of what they had been caught up in as they escaped from DC. Thousands of cars, trucks of all sizes, buses and even farm tractors and other vehicles large and small were all trapped together in a lies long gridlock. Wrecks were everywhere and the then more to the sides of those as people had sought to bypass those accidents only to be involved in ones of their own as panicked people had rammed one another in fear and desperation.

They had dismounted just to look while they debated what they were going to do now.

"That Cadillac didn't come through here," Tim stated with certainly.

Delilah spread out a map picked up at the remnants of a state welcome center studied it. "I-20 from the west maybe and that might be out best bet as well. East bound that is. We'll have to back track a little before we can swing that way."

The whole group surveyed the scene. Tim and Delilah looked at each other remembering the similar chaos they had been caught up in. They had won through. So many others had not.

Tim walked up to one vehicle, glancing back and forth from it to a nearby one. She shook his head and motioned to the girls as what seemed like very distant lectures from Ducky and ballistics training showed him what had happened here. He signed for Becky as he spoke.

"Girls this is why you don't try to shoot through the glass. This person did. What happened is that here," he pointed to one hole, "the bullet went through. Unfortunately it also went through this other car as well," he switched the vehicle he was pointing at. Judging by the bodies in the back seat and their positions it killed both of them. Don't see an infected body."

He walked around to the other side of the first car. "And here's the other result. Look at the safety glass scattered on the outside of the car. Someone, probably the same panicked individual shot through this window, weakening it. Remember the infected aren't the incredibly hard-heads of 'World War Z'; they can't batter their way through a car window by beating on it with their heads. Oh given enough time a group of them could break through but it was a heckuva lot easier for this one when the window had been weakened."

Delilah joined them as they stood wordlessly at the scene. What apparently was an infected had launched itself through the shot-out window and on to the vehicle's occupants. One of them, probably the wild shooter, had killed it but not before it seemed to have bitten everyone there, all of whom had turned on each other.

Delilah looked around as her ears caught a dull thudding coming from another vehicle. She drew everyone's attention to it.

"Good Lord," Tim said. Inside the vehicle an infected woman raged against the glass, trying to reach them. The remnants of three other bodies were in the car. Although she had no doubt that all three girls had seen much worse Delilah gently guided them away as Tim found a slightly cracked open window and when the infected followed him he dispatched it with a single shot.

He heaved a sigh as he came back to the truck.

"Remember that History Channel special we watched once about a hypothetical epidemic sweeping the world and a family trying to survive after the collapse?"

"I think it was 'After Apocalypse' and we bought the DVD's."

"That's it. In one scene a family was leaving early in the epidemic and one of the commentators mentioned that this could well be the way the infection would be spread to the countryside. Those poor people brought the infection with them when they tried to escape."

Even with all they had been through Delilah couldn't repress a shudder. The mental picture of having a person turn while in a car with their friends and family was terrifying. Tim laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't dwell on it sweetheart."

She reached up and squeezed his hand. Then her attention was drawn to something else.

"Tim? Look at that van."

"Hmm, that might do."

They looked back at their truck. As well as it had served them it was beginning to run rough and there wasn't a tune-up shop around. Anywhere. Plus it had received damage in two separate incidents lately. A high-jacking attempt had damaged both doors on the driver's side. Fortunately the store where they had found Becky had a closet in the machinery room that their curious girls had discovered. Inside proved to be a treasure trove of weapons and ammunition. When the ambush had been sprung the girls had cut-down twenty gauge shotguns and the adults a pair of AR 15 type carbines and they fought their way clear, leaving most of the hijackers dead or wounded. Then an early morning infected attack had cracked the right rear seat window and destroyed the headlights on that side as well.

Once cleared the van in question turned out to be an eleven passenger van fitted out for prisoner transport. The sides and bottom had been reinforced and steel grills covered the windows. The engine was diesel, a plus since gasoline was becoming harder and harder to find but they had often found diesel fuel had been bypassed.

"Heavy duty suspension, dual rear wheels and run flat tires," Tim noted.

"Plus a trailer hitch and hookup so we can still tow the four wheelers."

"More space for supplies. Lower mileage per gallon though."

That was a possible sticking point. Part of the reason their trek south had been so slow was the need to scrounge fuel, the lack of it sometimes keeping them in one place for several days at a time. Of course the conditions of the roads didn't help as they were often forced to backtrack and take side roads and sometimes both side roads and major highways were crumbling or blocked. Finally the need to lay low and hide from either infected or what seemed to be ever increasing numbers of looters had taken more time.

"Well we could be on foot," Tim said.

Delilah batted her eyes at her husband. "And you could be carrying me again."

After checking to make sure none of the girls were eavesdropping, including Becky whose ability to read lips at a distance had proved embarrassing more than once, Tim leaned over and whispered

"As long as I'm carrying you to bed."

"And there's encouragement for us to get to the safe zone," Delilah returned. "So we can get some privacy before we forget what we used to do when you did that."

They had decided to switch to the van. All pitched in to move their supplies and the trailer while keeping watch. Perhaps no prisoners had been in the van when it was abandoned as no manacles or other restraints were found to fit through the mounting rings set in the floor.

"We would have just thrown them out anyway," Tim said.

"True," Delilah responded. Without thinking she went on. "After all, we're not into that."

"Mom! PLEASE!" came a chorus from all three girls who proceeded to pretend they were all sick, including Becky who had pretty much adopted being a sister to Dahlia and Angie although she usually wasn't quite this ready to address the adults and Mom and Dad.

Delilah covered her mouth. With a tremendous struggle Tim managed to not laugh and not turn red as well, something his wife couldn't accomplish.

(Present)

"Thank goodness we did switch to the van," Delilah thought watching the five youngsters work. "Other wise we would have had to strap someone on the outside after we found the twins."

(To be continued) 


	12. Chapter 12

Escape, Chapter 12 by patricia51

(A few weeks before the previous chapter, somewhere east of Columbia)

"Now that's interesting."

"That mansion up there?"

"I think it's a school."

"Okay, you're right. There's a sign. I can't make out the name but it's somebody's 'School for Gifted Youngsters'." Tim paused. "Why does that sound familiar?"

Delilah shrugged. "No idea. But a boarding school sounds like a good idea for a visit."

"Why is that Mom?" asked an interested Angie who was busily signing the conversation to Becky.

"When the infection first started to spread one of the first measures taken was to close schools nationwide. Boarding schools like this were supposed to send their students home. Once that happened it seems likely most of the teachers would have left as well. We'll need to sweep the main building of course but because it's not a place that jumps to mind when you think of places to resupply it's likely it's not been looted."

"Plus, while I can't put my finger on why this school sounds so familiar at the same time I'm pretty sure it was coed. The girls' clothing is becoming ragged and worn and what is still good needs washing. As do we. Also," Delilah tried to be matter-of-fact but her face colored slightly, "We need to find certain feminine supplies for me and one of these days for you girls too. NOT something we put in our emergency kits when we left DC."

"Say no more," Tim said as he turned towards the driveway leading in. "In fact PLEASE say no more."

The driveway was circular. They pulled up close to the impressive double wooden doors. They appeared closed. The group got out, leaving the single front door of the van open.

Mechanical skills had never been part of Tim's repertoire before. Oh he wasn't completely ignorant, he knew how to check everything on a vehicle and make minor repairs but generally when something really needed fixing he took it to a shop.

That had begun to change, as he had himself, after the time he was taken hostage at the prison. He had gained a great deal of self-confidence there and the first place it came out was in dealing with the people fixing (ha!) his car. He had been firm, laid down the law and incidentally never went back to that shop. He started learning more, mostly in self-defense to keep from being ripped off but Tim was the type of guy who loved learning. All kinds of learning. And once the threat of the crisis had begun to loom over them he had worked even harder, broadening his knowledge of many skills, including working on vehicles.

The legally required emergency door at the back of the van had a metal shelf that could be tediously hand-cranked up and down, apparently for a wheelchair bound prisoner. A salvaged motor and controls from a totaled wrecker along with tools and a torch borrowed from the same vehicle (borrowed because they were put back) along with a couple days filled with skinned knuckles and colorful comments ("Damnit Tim the girls can hear you!") and Delilah could let herself in and out of the van.

For situations like this the family had divided itself into two teams. Delilah and Becky kept the outside watch, ready to alert the others if danger approached. Tim was immediately covered by Dahlia while Angie kept rear guard. He listened carefully at the front doors. Dahlia aimed her pistol at the doors and nodded. The doors didn't seem to be locked but Tim had to struggle with them for a minute. They listened again. Nothing.

Tim turned and looked at Delilah. He winked. She smiled. Then the searchers slipped through the door. Delilah could follow their progress from the low-pitched distinctive voices of her husband and daughters calling "Clear". The voices faded. Delilah made a mental note that walki-talkies should be put on their "shopping list". She sighed. A pair of top-notch radios was in their apartment and another pair in her van. Both sets were tuned to match ones carried by the rest of their NCIS teammates. She hoped someone somehow was putting them to good use.

Becky had been scanning the area all around them. Not being able to hear had only sharpened her other senses. She caught her older woman's mood if not her sigh.

"What is it Mother?"

Delilah smiled and stroked Becky's hair. "Nothing sweetie," she signed. "Just wishing for some of the supplies we left behind."

"I wish for a lot of things too," the little deaf girl said wistfully.

"I know."

Delilah didn't know if it was shock, anxiety about being alone, pragmatism, acceptance or simply the fact that Becky was always between Dahlia and Angie who had taken Tim and Delilah as their parents and she wanted to be part of the family. But not that long ago one morning she had turned to Delilah.

"You're my mommy now aren't you?"

Delilah had not hesitated for an instant. "Yes I am."

The little girl had nodded. "I thought so."

The pair continued to keep a close eye on their surroundings. Nothing. Footsteps sounded inside the building but they obviously were coming from Tim and the girls returning. Tim had a puzzled look on his face. He backed away from the building scanned the upper floors.

"What is it?"

"I think someone's up there."

Immediately everyone's eyes looked up. Delilah managed to close her mouth and wrench her attention back to the grounds before anything showed up but she was surprised.

"Why do you say that?"

"We didn't find anything on the bottom floor at first. The doors are all locked and chained shut to boot except to that one." Still looking up he pointed at the double doors. "Those weren't locked but they were not easy to open. No one has lubricated those handles in a long time."

"There's one set of stairs right through the door and another smaller one in the back. Both have had several steps chopped out of them."

"Right out of Max Brook's 'The Zombie Survival Guide'," Delilah noted.

"Which turned out to be right on the money in this case," agreed Tim.

"I assume that's not all."

"Correct as always my lady," Tim bowed with a twinkle in his eyes. "Both staircases had what looked to be a home-made rope ladder fastened up high where it could be dropped and climbed down. Also, we found no sign of anybody at all when we swept the floor except in the kitchen."

"Oh really?"

"Really. And recently too."

"And," broke in an excited Angie "the door in was barricaded."

"But," Tim smiled and touched Angie's shoulder, "this one found where the food was delivered to the dining room and wiggled into the kitchen."

"After," Dahlia hastily added, "we had checked everything as well as we could including making noise to draw any infected into sight."

"You better have!"

"Delilah we didn't take any chances. I wouldn't have allowed it if I hadn't been one hundred percent sure it was safe."

"Anyway," Angie went on. Someone has been using the kitchen. There were a lot of empty shelves but the pantry is huge and there's still a lot of food there. The oven is gas, like the one we had lat winter. Everything is clean but it s obviously been used, is still being used in fact I bet. There was the faintest hint of heat on one of the burners and a couple of the cans in the garbage have a little residue that smells fresh, not rancid or dried up."

"Plus a big give away is the lack of dust," Dahlia contributed. "We found dust everywhere on the furniture in the offices and other rooms. There were tracks but they were old and barely noticeable. The kitchen is as clean as a whistle." He paused thoughtfully. "Why would a whistle be that clean? Because you put one end in your mouth?"

She shook her head before Tim or Delilah could. "Sorry. Not sure where that came from. Anyway. Someone, probably two from the silver wear stayed put and forted up. The may have electricity or had it when the crisis first started because they've followed the tips, the intelligent tips that is, put out by Civil Defense."

"Good reading of the signs, both of you," approved Tim.

"You taught us Daddy," replied Angie while Dahlia nodded.

"I wonder why they would have stayed?" Becky asked.

"One possibility is that they didn't have any place to go," Tim said. "In that case they made a very wise decision. That huge traffic jam we saw, most of those people were just running. They had no idea of where they might be going except someplace else. While it can be the only choice sometime usually the wisest one is to stay put, especially in this case. Here our survivors had food and water, some power and a place to fortify. Why leave it to go on the road?"

"Exactly what we thought."

The group had gathered back at the van. Although they had not completely lost their situational awareness they had been looking back the way they had driven in and around the grounds, not thinking about the open doors leading in to the floor they had just searched. But standing in the doorway were two figures. Both middle teens one was a girl and one was a boy.

"We didn't have any place to go. So we stayed," the girl spoke again.

(To be continued) 


	13. Chapter 13

Escape, Chapter 13 by patricia51

(Same time and place as the previous chapter)

"We didn't have any place to go. So we stayed," the girl spoke again.

Still trying to keep a watchful eye on their surroundings the family took in the duo. Both were dressed in clean serviceable clothing; jeans and boots and pullover tops. The boy had shoulder length white hair while the girl's dark tresses fell to her waist. But what caught their attention was the amazing similarity in the pair's faces.

"They're twins!"

The girl smiled. "Yes we are. I am Wanda and this is my twin brother Peter."

Except for Becky the others noticed that Wanda spoke with an accent.

"You are from somewhere in Eastern Europe?" asked Tim.

"Yes," the boy answered, his accent slightly more pronounced than his sister's. "Slovakia." He looked them over, paying particular attention to Becky. "May I ask something? Why does she stare so?"

"Idiot," his sister said shaking her head but with a fond look in he eyes as she touched his shoulder that took the sting out of the term. "She is deaf and trying to read your lips."

"I'm Becky!" the youngest member of the McGee family put in.

Wanda smiled. "It is nice to meet you Becky." She looked at the others.

"I am Delilah McGee; this is my husband Tim and our daughters Dahlia, Angie and of course Becky." She went on the explain how they had left home during the collapse and were making their way south to the coast of Georgia where friends were waiting. "Along the way we were blessed to have the three girls here join us and become our family."

The twins had listened intently as Delilah explained who they were and how they had got here.

"It sounds," Peter said carefully, "as though you had planned much of this. Did you know this was coming?" His tone was mild but there was an accusatory look in his eyes.

Delilah sighed. "Yes. I was an intelligence analyst for the US Department of Defense and put much of what I saw was happening around the world together. Unfortunately I couldn't get anyone to take me seriously except Tim's fellow Federal Law-Enforcement Agents and friends. We were separated from them when the outbreak reached critical proportions but we did manage to contact them once and they assured us there is a steadily expanding safe zone."

"Perhaps," Wanda broke in, "we could move this discussion inside? And maybe you could pull your vehicle around to the side where the old stables are. It will be out of sight there and we will unlock the kitchen door that leads out that way." She paused thoughtfully. Also, Delilah, that is correct isn't it? I'm afraid that is the only way into what we considered 'our' safe zone, at least the only way you can come in your wheelchair. I am sorry."

Actually judging from her older daughters' description Delilah was confident that she had the upper arm strength to pull herself through the passageway. However it WOULD leave her chair outside since it was not collapsible. Also there was no point yet in revealing how strong she was or putting herself in a position where she would either have to openly carry her Sig or leave it in its concealed holster.

She and Tim exchanged looks with each other and then with the girls. Slight nods were exchanged, agreeing that the duo they had just met were almost certainly who they said they were and trustworthy. But Dahlia and Angie both unobtrusively checked that their thirty-eights were both concealed and ready to draw. Holding their shotguns casually but in position to swing them to bear on any threat they took their younger sister and followed the twins back into the building, closing the heavy door panels as they did.

When they reached the dining room Dahlia slipped ahead of the entire group and went through what they had termed the tunnel first. She thoroughly scanned the kitchen. Satisfied that all was well she stood back as the rest came through; Wanda, Peter, Becky and finally Angie. At the same time they heard the van being pulled around back. Without hesitation Wanda unbarred the outside door, let the adults in and then relocked and barricaded it.

Peter walked over to what appeared to be a wooden panel on the inside wall. He slid part of it aside.

"This is an old dumbwaiter. It goes from here down to the basement where probably once upon a time food staples were stored. There is nothing down there now-a-days although we found an old walk-in storage room with a solid door that also had a small high window that reached up to ground level. We replaced the window with an old door that latches from the inside. It was to be our hiding place if the school had ever been invaded by marauders." He shrugged. "That never happened. Infected, we saw, staggering around and occasionally trying to get in but as long as we remained quiet, stayed out of sight and on the second floor they would eventually wander off."

Delilah rolled closer and peered at the dumbwaiter. "I assume this also goes to the second floor as well?"

"And even the attic although heaven alone knows why," Wanda put in.

"So how did you two come to be here all alone?" asked Tim. "You've done a very good job of protecting yourselves and surviving but why is it just the two of you?"

Instead of answering Wanda glanced out the window. "It's starting to get dark. May I suggest that we perhaps should eat something and then retire upstairs? We have closed off several rooms so no lights show outside. It is safer there. We will gladly answer your question Mrs. McGee," she added hastily, "it's just that we have developed a routine that serves us well."

"An excellent idea," smiled Delilah. She turned to Tim. "What did you bring in that we can share with Wanda and Peter?"

Looking guilty her husband opened the knapsack he had brought in to reveal, among other items, one of the last remaining hams.

Even as she opened her mouth to say something like "Not AGAIN" Peter leaped forward, delight on his face. "Is that ham? We have not had any in so long! Wonderful." He sobered even before his sister's elbow caught his side. "I am sorry, that was a little overboard."

"Not at all," replied Delilah. "One man's feast is another one's 'oh God here we go again'," she added as an after thought.

"Pardon?"

"Not important. Let's get supper ready."

In short order food was fixed, including a generous portion of ham for Peter. A quick clean-up and then Wanda and Peter looked at each other and then Delilah with uncertainty.

"We have two ways of going upstairs. The dumbwaiter is one but it requires you pull yourself up by the rope here," Wanda pointed it out. "It can barely hold the two of us. When we still had power for the motor it was not a problem but now it's not easy to pull it up and down using the manual rope." Wanda looked a bit surprised as Delilah grinned.

In short order it turned out that the other ay up was a rope ladder that could be unrolled from the second floor and the girls swarmed up it after fastening Delilah's wheelchair. While they hauled it up Delilah proved she could not only pull the dumbwaiter to the second floor but did it with Peter as a passenger.

Once everyone had reached the suite of rooms that the twins had converted into a safe area they settled in for the night. A hand crank lantern that charged an internal battery provided the light as the McGee's looked expectantly at the twins. Wanda took the lead.

"Peter and I were orphaned at a young age, so young in fact that we barely remember our parents. We grew up in a state-run school. The people there were caring and tried but there was very little money and the adults were stretched so few among so many children. So when a representative of this school visited and offered to take us in, well, I won t say that they shoved us out the door but it did mean there were two less mouths to feed in the ongoing scramble for supplies and they did check with the US Government who assured them the school had an impeccable reputation.

"In fact we have often wondered just why we were selected. There were children of all ages from elementary to near college here from all across the US and a number of different countries. The teachers were excellent and caring. They lived here as well and were available at all hours. We learned rapidly. There was plenty of food and warm beds in rooms we each shared only with one other person.

"Over-all was the headmaster. Everyone always called him 'The Professor' and addressed him as such. He was very wise and very kind and we all loved it here. We were told that we were 'special, gifted' and that it would all be revealed in due course. We didn't worry about it. We made many friends and life here was both interesting and good.

"Then came the infection. With the very first hints of it many parents came and took their children. Then, it got really bad with the announcement of all school closings."

Angie's fingers flew as she repeated Wanda's story to Becky. They could see it all, the frantic efforts to get the children home, the teachers wild to do what they could but at the same time having families of their own in other places they needed to get to. The desperate battle with the first wave of infected to attack the school, drawn by the frantic activity. All the members of the now expanded McGee family could see it because they had all lived through it themselves.

"Finally," Wanda concluded, "everyone was gone except for us and the Professor. And He was torn. So torn. He believed his duty was to stay with us but at the same time his sister whom he loved very much was missing. He refused to leave us to search for her but when she managed to call him and give her location we convinced him to go after her. We assured him we would be alright until he got back with her. The stairs had already been cut down and the rope ladder put in. He promised he would be back. We barricaded the kitchen after moving everything in there that we could find here or in the abandoned surrounding houses."

"We waited," Peter took up the narrative. "The Professor never came back. We know he would have if it had been humanly possible.

(The Present)

So now they were seven Delilah mused. The twins and the girls had grown close quickly and when it was time to go on they had all bonded and Wanda and Peter came with them. Tim approached.

"All set sweetheart. Supper time and then the usual watch schedule for the night. Al tomorrow or the day after I think we'll be close to where those signs we've seen on the Interstate have been pointing."

She nodded. It had been three; no four days ago they had rolled up on an advertising billboard. Whatever it had said before had been painted over. They had read it.

"Dalton's Trading Post at I20 and I95. Whatever you need we've got. Come and swap. But be friendly or be dead."

"Sounds interesting."

(To be continued) 


	14. Chapter 14

Escape, Chapter 14 by patricia51

(I26 and I95 intersection. Late summer.)

"Please dismount and sling weapons. Follow the marked path. Please do not wander into the mine field. Dead customers are so hard to trade with. We understand that you will take precautions too. That's fine. Be careful and friendly and we will be too. Be unfriendly and we have lots of room to bury what will be left of you. Have a nice day!"

Tim and Delilah looked at the sign then looked at each other and then scanned the sign again as if a close scrutiny might reveal something the first reading had not.

"What do you think?" both of them asked in the same breath. Everyone else in the vehicle grinned. Even Wanda and Peter had got used to the way the two adults finished each others' sentences and read the other's thoughts before they were even expressed.

It had taken longer to get here than they had expected. The van had begun to run rough but they were very exceedingly reluctant to abandon it. It was perfect: room for all of them, well protected against attack by infected and marauders alike and the one person operated lift that allowed Delilah to let herself in and out of the back by herself. Not that she hardly ever did that, usually one of more of her family was there for her.

Tim overhauled the vehicle's engine, all that he could anyway. Peter proved a godsend. Mechanically inclined himself he was amazingly fast on foot, bringing parts and tools from a shop/auto parts store that was within walking distance of where they had hidden themselves. Walking distance for Peter anyway, Tim had admitted more than once. It would have been a half day journey for him.

There had been an infected attack early one morning just as everyone was waking up. Later they all discussed if the infected might have wandered by without stopping had they not hit the home-made alarm system the family set up; simple wires with old cans attached to them with metal scraps in the cans to rattle noisily if disturbed. Regardless, the infected DID hit the wires and the sound had everyone awake and ready before the first one staggered into the camp.

Neither Peter nor Wanda had ever held a firearm in their lives before this ("That's good," Tim had said, "You won't have picked up any bad habits."). The weapon of choice for booth of them had been shotguns, like the girls used and in the same twenty gauge to make the ammunition supply easier. Thirty-eight caliber revolvers had completed their armament ("with a revolver you never have to worry if the safety is on or if there is a round chambered. You just start pulling the trigger ). Careful patient training; learning the weapon, cleaning it, sight and instinctive aiming and finally dummy round firing all had been done before the first live round was chambered. So when the crowd of infected burst through the warning system they were met by six capable gun handlers and one Becky complaining as loud as she could later about once again being pushed behind everyone else and never firing a shot.

One skill both of the twins turned out to have was archery; having learned to hunt at an early age before they were orphaned. When an opportunity arose for them and Tim to slip into a huge sporting goods store they took it. The guns were cleaned out and not a single round of ammunition was found but the archery equipment had barely been touched. The twins were ecstatic. While the rest of the family prowled the stockrooms and floor displays for new boots and outdoor clothing Wanda and Peter found bows that were perfect for them and loaded up on arrows, hunting tips and extra strings. The finds were enriched by the discovery of sleeping bags for the twins and fuel for the group's cook stove and lanterns.

Not only had the twins proved to be resourceful hunters but their ability with a near silent weapon had helped them all to avoid a fight with an ambushing group of marauders.

(Previously)

Peter moved through the underbrush, slowly, taking his time. Each step was careful; making sure that no branch was underfoot before putting his weight down. Behind him Wanda was just as careful. And as quiet. They were hunting but this time it was bigger game than they had ever dealt with before.

Two days previously the family had come up on a fortified farm. Both sides had been careful and wary but eventually they reached an understanding. Neither party was generously overstocked in anything but a comparison of what each had and needed saw both sides eding up better off than when they met.

The powerfully built older man who was at the very least the spokesperson for the twenty odd survivors shook hands with Tim to conclude their deal. As the merchandise was exchanged he gave the family a warning.

"A marauder group of about fifteen tried to hit us some days ago. We drove them off. Like most of those groups they don't want a fight; they want what they can take without much risk. We have heard they set up an ambush site down the highway somewhere. Apparently they lurk well off the road, rushing to it when lookouts report someone coming. Then they split into two groups and trap their victims front and rear."

Tim and Delilah thanked the man. They pulled out their maps.

"They've picked a good spot," Tim admitted. "I'm not sure there's a way around them that won't take a couple of weeks at a minimum."

"Even then we have no guarantee that route will be any safer," Delilah noted.

All five of the children were clustered around them. They were all old enough to be included in any discussion although in the end Tim and Delilah made the final decisions. They thought anything that impacted the children they deserved to know. So the five took it all in and thought along with the adults for a minute. That's when Wanda came up with her idea.

"We scout thee ambush. Find the lookouts. Then Peter and I take them out. We go right past the rest before they know we are even nearby."

So here they were. Tim the twins had set up an observation post of their own. As it turned out there were three lookouts for the marauders and none of them had the slightest noise or sight discipline. They wandered around, they smoked, and they chatted loudly on their walkie-talkies. After two days the trio agreed they had the pattern of the sentries down well enough to take care of them.

The one point of disagreement was that the twins felt that although Tim was pretty good in the woods he should stay and cover them. Reluctantly he agreed after they demonstrated just how stealthy they were and he realized he might actually jeopardize them. His one worry was that faced with having to actual kill another human being they might hesitate.

"To protect our new family," Wanda stated firmly, "We would kill all of them." Peter nodded.

So under the cover of a cloudy moonlit night they went hunting.

The first target was the one nearest the outlaw camp. He was alone however as the other two had set up camp together on the far side of the highway. There was a greater chance their first kill would be found but bringing two men down at one time without one raising the alarm was the harder task.

The marauders swapped lookouts once a day in the morning so they had all day and the first part of the night to get bored and sleepy. Right at dusk the twins began their stalk. They took turns being in the lead, wordlessly indicating to each other when it was time to swap as well as any obstacles in the way. In less than an hour they were carefully circling the lookout's camp. He had built a campfire and outlined himself against it as both of the twins let an arrow hiss through the air. He fell and didn't move.

They quickly searched the camp, finding nothing useful. The man's weapon was a rusting piece of junk. They unloaded it and pulled the bolt. As they moved toward their second target they quietly tossed the bolt away in one direction, the ammo in a second and the now useless weapon in a third. Then they moved on. Peter tapped the send button on the walkie-talkie once, sending Tim the signal the first lookout was down.

The tricky part was getting across the highway. Wanda doubted the men were actually keeping a watch, more depending on hearing a vehicle rather than watching for one. And if someone didn't have a vehicle they probably weren't worth robbing. Still, remembering what the McGee's had told them about the ambush they had made it through before the twins knew that goods and money weren't everything the marauders were looking for.

They waited at the edge of the road as patiently as they could. It was near midnight by now and the sun would start coming up about six, by which time they hoped to be long gone. Finally a shadow drifted across the moon and they darted across.

A path led up to the observation post. The twins paralleled it, assuming that even such a careless bunch as the outlaws seemed to be that they would not at least have something strung across the path to warn them about the approach of any infected. But the underbrush was sparse and they made good time. Ahead of them they saw a flicker of light. Someone had just lit a cigarette. Wanda shook her head.

As they crept closer they heard the pair talking in low voices. They listened as they crept closer. Peter's face twisted in disgust at the conversation. If there had been any doubt they were doing the right thing the terrible things the men were boasting of having done and hoped to do in the future to people they raided, that doubt was swept aside. Nodding to each other they each picked their target. As soon as Wanda heard her brother's bow release she fired. Her target had just an instant to look wide-eyed at the arrow that sprouted in his companion's chest before he took one in the throat and fell on top of the other's body.

Before the sun came up the twins had returned and the McGee's had crept down the highway between the no longer interested lookouts, the motor as muffled as they could make it until they were sure they were well past the outlaws. Then they took off. A couple of days later they had reached the trading post.

(Present)

"So what are we going to do Daddy?" asked Becky, Tigger snuggled in his usual place in her lap. It was clear the kitten had adopted her although he was perfectly happy to have anyone scratch his neck or pet him. He was especially fond of having his tummy rubbed.

Unlikely as it was it was possible that Becky's father was still alive on the West Coast and some day might find his way back to her. Tim and Delilah had been very cautious about encouraging her to call them by any names other than their own. At the same time they deeply cared for the little girl and were determined to take care of her. But it would have to be her decision to become a permanent part of the family. The fact that she had been calling Dahlia and Angie her sisters for quite a while was a pretty sure indicator of her intentions even before the recent change from "Tim" and "Delilah" to "Mommy" and "Daddy".

The same was true of the twins. Older and without a doubt orphaned they were not even in their home country. Tim and Delilah hoped the pair would stay with them after they reached the safe zone that was closer and closer every day.

"After all," Delilah had commented one evening when she and Tim had a few minutes alone. "Seven is a nice number for a family."

Tim signed his reply to their youngest as he spoke to the others. "I'm going to do exactly what the sign say. I have a feeling these people are exactly who they appear to be. I don't think we ve run across Terminus."

Delilah shuddered. "Please God no." She rallied. "And us?"

"Stay here. Someone behind the wheel at all times in case this is an ambush and nobody goes too far until I signal. But it won't hurt, I hope, to let the people up there see that we're just a family trying to get by."

With that he slung his rifle muzzle down and started up the path.

(To be continued)  



	15. Chapter 15

Escape, Chapter 15 by patricia51

(I26 and I95 intersection. Late summer.)

(Special thanks to my dear friend LushColtrane for his suggestions about working in a little of TWD and especially a warning for the McGee's to make sure they weren't walking into Terminus.)

Tim carefully made his way up the trail towards the former interstate welcome center that now advertised itself as "Dalton's Trading Post". It wasn't that easy. The path was smooth and he knew that Delilah would be able to negotiate it in her wheelchair but it switched back and forth several times. Three separate fences of barbed wire and concertina surrounded the building and the openings didn't line up. Of course that was deliberate, to ensure any attacker, infected or not, couldn't just charge up. This way they would be slowed. He had already noted a sniper on the building's roof and he wouldn't be surprised if there weren't a machine gun or two available there.

He shrugged. Nothing he wouldn't have done himself given the time and supplies. That the mine-field really existed was evidenced by more than one crater. Some other places looked to have been filled in and probably the expended explosives replaced. Just forward of the open doors were two sandbagged mounds. Curved green plastic showed at the base of both mounds. Tim was willing to bet a close inspection would reveal the famous raised "Front. Towards Enemy." warning of the devastating Claymore mine. Not that he planned to look that close.

Three figures appeared in the doorway. On the right was a capable looking man, on the left an equally capable looking woman. Both were armed with assault rifles and pistols and the way the pair carried them showed they were quite comfortable with their use. But the man in the middle commanded attention.

Average height, a little over average weight, clean shaven and short-haired at first glance he appeared completely ordinary. But Tim's trained law-enforcement instincts, honed by months of survival living knew better. The man had that indefinable air of command. Determination was written on his face and in his stance but Tim could also see something in the man's eyes that hinted of laughter. Tim also noted the man was not armed. Apparently anyway.

"Welcome to Dalton's. I'm Dalton."

"Tim McGee."

"Military or Law-Enforcement?" Dalton asked. "I'm just curious. You seem to be one of the other. You're prepared for trouble but you obviously would prefer to avoid it. You carry yourself more like a cop but not completely."

Tim nodded. "Special Agent Tim McGee of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. And I'm a Navy brat too."

"NCIS. NCIS. That's familiar. Why?"

The woman beside him spoke up. "Back in the spring. An NCIS Agent passed this way with a couple of other survivors he was shepherding."

"Oh yes."

"Did you get his name?" Tim asked, curious to learn if it was someone he knew personally."

"Steve. No wait that's not it. Stan, Stan Burley."

"Wow." A troubled look came over Tim's face. "I'm glad to hear of him but he was assigned as an Agent Afloat and I had hoped that his ship would be one of the ones we've heard of that remained out at sea and stayed infection free. I guess not."

"He didn't go into details," Dalton said. "Most people don't. He was with two other adults and one teenager. He did say he was trying to make his way down the Georgia coast to a reported safe area."

"It's there," Tim declared. "We talked to some of our friends who helped set it up along with the military during the beginning of the infection. This was a few months ago, well after we escaped from DC. Just a fluke cell phone connection. A friend reported they were safe and established and the safe zone had spread to the mainland and was growing."

"That's good to know. We ve heard rumors and occasionally picked up reports on the shortwave receiver we have but there's been no real confirmation."

While they were talking Dalton had gestured Tim inside and had been taking him on a tour. The building was good size but the area behind it was quite large and filled with vehicles and trailers of all types. Stacks of all kinds of supplies were on pallets inside and out. During the walk the trader inspected Tim's identification and pronounced himself satisfied.

"I COULD be a renegade you know," Tim commented as he tucked away his badge and ID folder.

"Perhaps. But not with the group I saw standing by your vehicle. Marauders don't show up with children, unless they're hostages of some kind and the spotters on the roof had already told me that was not the case even before you got all the way up the path. You have your family down there, not a raiding party."

"Yes," Tim saw no reason not to admit it. "My wife Delilah and the adopted children we've found along the way. Speaking of that," he stepped to the door, whistled and waved. As soon as Delilah let herself down in the back the group started up the path.

"Trusting?"

"My boss told me to rely on my gut. I believe if this was a trap of some kind you would have already been urging me to bring everyone up. You would have tried to be more disarming, more 'hail fellow well met'. You've been cautious yourself and taken care looking us over. If I'm wrong I'm very wrong but I think you and your trading post can be trusted."

"Except when it comes to bargaining," warned Dalton with a smile.

Tim grinned back. "Dalton if I sell you a horse I won't even promise it's got four legs. You'll have to look for yourself."

"Deal." The two men shook hands. They watched the children take turns pushing Delilah up the path.

"May I ask you a somewhat personal question Agent McGee?"

"It's Tim. Ask away. I don't necessarily promise to answer though."

"Tim then. Was your wife already hurt before this whole thing or did it happen after?"

"It was several years ago. There was a terrorist drone attack on DC at a gala event we were attending. Delilah was a DoD analyst and was scheduled to receive an award for her counter-terrorism work. She was paralyzed in the explosion. But it's never stopped her. Heck it's never slowed her down."

"How in hell did you escape DC?"

"On a motorcycle." Tim shrugged at Dalton's not quite disbelieving look. "It wasn't planned. We had two vehicles, her van set up so she could get in and out herself and my all wheel drive crossover. Both were stuffed with supplies. But the speed of the infection caught us off guard. She was trapped in our third floor apartment. The only way I could think of to get up the ramps was by motorcycle. It worked but the infected were swarming so much that we couldn't get to either of our vehicles. Then the military started blowing the bridges so it turned out lucky that we were on a bike."

Dalton frowned slightly "You said 'the speed of infection caught you off guard'. Did you know it was coming?"

"Delilah did. She put it all together along with some help from a CIA agent. The problem was that she couldn't get anyone to listen to her. She gave briefings and warnings; they were all dismissed by those in a position to do anything. She got so frustrated. No one would listen." He paused for a moment. "I'm not, I think, a vengeful man but I hope that the Homeland Security Assistant Secretary who actually patted her on the head and told her that she should leave policy decisions to 'the big boys' and that they had everything under control' got eaten in the first wave."

Dalton sighed. "You can be sure he didn't. He was probably on the first helo evacuation to some underground bunker where he's been hiding out, waiting for things to get back to normal so he can stand in front of the microphones and tell everyone what a great job he did during the crisis."

"I know."

The group reached the top. Tim nodded in satisfaction as the children spread out in a rough circle to cover all around them, keeping Delilah in the center. Dalton looked pleased.

"You've taught them well Tim."

"They're quick learners. But then they have to be in this day and time and place," Delilah said

"Unfortunately that's true. By the way, I'm Dalton and it's nice to meet you Mrs. McGee."

"Delilah please. And these," she indicated the children one by one, "are Dahlia, Angie, Peter, Wanda and... "

"I'm Becky!" the youngest McGee interjected proudly, signing as she spoke.

Dalton's face showed surprise again as he realized Becky was deaf. "Amazing." He smiled. "Now let's get down to some trading."

One always valuable commodity the McGee's had brought with them from the farm. Fresh food was always highly prized. Another was a portion of the anti-biotics that Tim had picked up from the abandoned pharmacy in the little town near the farm where they had wintered. These brought them a replenishment of their canned food and bottled water as well as diesel fuel for the van.

"Gas is of course very scarce." Dalton commented. "You were wise to choose a diesel; while you don't find it everywhere it's much more available than gas."

A bonus was the finding of a used winch that could be mounted on the front of the van. They were invited to spend the night and shown the circular road that started back a few hundred yards that led to the back of the once welcome center. Tim, Peter and one of the permanent residents welded the winch in place and installed the controls.

Tim and Delilah conferred with Dalton that evening after a shared supper. One thing that was free here was information, especially dealing with travel. And Dalton told them, if travel stopped he wouldn't have any customers.

"Getting over the Savannah River is probably your biggest obstacle. I know the Tallmadge Memorial Bridge at Savannah is hopelessly blocked as are most highway bridges. I suggest one of the railroad bridges. I don't KNOW but I have heard that the CSX railroad bridge here," he pointed at a spot on the map they were examining, "may be passable."

One pair of items that Dalton really wanted, although he did his best to tamper his enthusiasm, was the two four-wheelers and their trailers. Tim politely but firmly refused to part with them.

"You know," Dalton pointed out, "that all seven of you can't fit on to them in case of an emergency."

"No," Delilah said softly. "But the children could even if Tim and I couldn't."

That was the end of the discussion. However the morning they left Tim told Dalton if they made it to the safe zone they'd see about sending the four-wheelers back with a north bound convoy someday.

"It's a deal." The two men shook hands. "Good luck to all of you."

Everyone waved as the van pulled out. A route had been mapped out that would take them to the hoped-for river crossing so they planned to be leaving the interstate shortly.

"Keep your fingers crossed."

(To be continued) 


	16. Chapter 16

Escape, Chapter 16 by patricia51

(Somewhere in southern coastal Georgia)

Tim hit the magazine release. As soon as the empty fell away he slapped a full one in, hit the bolt release and took aim. He didn't have to look down to know that was the last one for the rifle. All around him the sounds of the girls' shotguns were being replaced by the bark of their .38's. A hiss past his ear let him know that Wanda or Peter was using their bow. They might still have ammo; they liked the silent weapon better. The measured booming of Delilah's Sig told him his wife was still in the fight. But it was only a matter of time now. Now it was time for the final fallback.

So close damnit. The information they had picked up told them that they were THAT close to the recently expanded edges of the safe zone. Horseshoes and hand grenades were all that close counted in. He wished he had some hand grenades. But he didn't and not everyone was going to get away from this trap. He just had to make sure who did.

(Two weeks after leaving Dalton's at the CSX Railroad Bridge over the Savannah River)

"Daddy what do you look forward to the most when we get to the safe zone?" Dahlia asked as the family took a breather.

Tim rubbed the scraggly beard that had once more sprouted since they had left the trading post.

"The chance to shave every day sweetheart."

"What about you Mom?" chimed in Angie. "What are you looking forward to?"

"Your father having the chance to shave every day so I can stop getting whisker burns when he kisses me," Delilah responded with a straight face.

Everyone laughed.

"Okay, let's get back to work," Delilah continued, "or we'll never get the chance to see you dad clean-shaven again."

Everyone pretended to shudder and resumed what they had been doing; which was getting an abandoned car off the bridge. Four flat tires weren't helping but it rolled on its rims as van pulled steadily backwards. Tim was driving while the four older children formed a box around the two vehicles, everyone always ensuring they remained in sight of at least two others at all times. Becky was waiting with her mother on the South Carolina end where they had uncoupled the trailer. Across from them were the remnants of three vehicles the family had already managed to get off the bridge along with assorted other junk, tree limbs and trunks and a rusted out trailer that had been jammed sideways in the middle of the bridge and had taken an entire day to move.

This was about it they all hoped. There had been room to squeeze past this last vehicle and they hadn't found any more obstacles. They had been fortunate to find an equipment shack on their side that had provided tools, chains and other equipment to help move the vehicles. That had included lumber of various sizes and lengths which allowed them to patch several holes including left by a truck that had broken through the side. That one they had managed to tip over the side although it had taken the jack they had used with it.

It was hard to tell how long the different wrecks had been on the bridge. Tim's examination indicated that they had been abandoned at different times, which was rather baffling as the truck they tipped and the trailer thoroughly blocked the bridge and appeared to have been in place longer than the rest. Had the others crept on the bridge and attempted to remove the obstacles and been interrupted by someone or something? Tim figured he'd never have the answer.

Wanda, who was in front of the derelict on his side raised her arm and gave Tim a thumb's up, meaning they had cleared the bridge. A similar sign from Angie on the other side told him it was time to turn and pull the wreck towards the rest of the scrap they had taken. He checked his side view mirrors, ensuring he could see both Peter and Dahlia. In a few minutes he stopped and then inched forward to relieve the tension on the chains. His four helpers swarmed over those and the wreck and in short order the van was free. Tim pulled it back to where Delilah and Becky, with much assistance or at least investigation by Tigger, were finishing supper and his gang swiftly reattached the trailer with the four wheelers.

The days were beginning to shorten from high summer and of course there was no longer any such thing as Daylight Savings Time. Supper was a little early but they were all worn out from several days of backbreaking work and sleep claimed them all quickly except for each one's turn on guard duty. The night passed without incident, as most of them had lately. On the morning they had carefully and slowly crept across the bridge. Tim had insisted everyone get out while he drove. An argument ensued with Delilah who pointed out her wheelchair was not designed to go over railroad ties. That argument was countered when Peter and Wanda scooped her up in their arms and carried her while Angie and Dahlia took turns carrying the wheelchair.

Once over they loaded up and headed south.

(Present)

Delilah knew it had all been going too well. After they had crossed the bridge they had made some of the best time since she and Tim had first roared out of DC on the motorcycle. Roads seemed to be open and where they were blocked it only required short detours to get around and back on track. Signs of damage from looting or panic were scarce. They had found two service stations and both had allowed them to not only replenish their diesel but find enough gasoline to top off the four wheelers.

What they hadn't seen was people. Any people; alive, dead or infected. It was troubling. But at the same time they knew they were getting close. They had by-passed Savannah and although sorely tempted to investigate Fort Stewart to see if the base was still operational they had kept going towards their final destination. Tim had even shushed them all yesterday, believing he had heard the faraway sounds that might have been a helicopter. If he had no one else picked it up for sure, though Dahlia thought she might have heard it as well.

She shook her head. None of that mattered now. What mattered was the situation they were facing now. They had seen much death and destruction, even before the infection. She and Tim, both separately and together, had chased terrorists and murderers and other assorted scum of the earth. But she never thought she would see this; people who deliberately used the infected as a weapon.

The ambush had been triggered by some sort of IED that blew both front tires and sent shrapnel into the engine. Most vehicles would have suffered serious casualties among their occupants but the former prisoner transport had a reinforced floor that shrugged off the flying metal. The unharmed family was able to quickly evacuate the van. They took up all around positions and scanned the area. A quick check by Tim and roll call confirmed everyone was unharmed.

At first it seemed like their position was ready made for defense. The old country dirt road they were on had repeated plowings to smooth it after any measureable rain which had brought the level of the road itself a couple of feet below the banks on either side. Everyone was able to stay under cover while looking for the attackers.

No sooner had the sound of the explosion died out than the McGee's were bombarded with a shower of noisemakers of all things. Shot from what sounded like a couple of launchers similar to potato guns. Tim must have located the one on his side for he popped up and let go half a magazine from his assault rifle and the bombardment stopped from that side, then on her side as well. It was replaced by gunfire. Not much, just harassing enough to make them keep their heads down.

"I don't understand it," she heard Tim say to pretty much no one but himself.

"What honey?" she called.

"What s their plan? They have us immobilized, they think anyway but so what? They're wasting ammunition keeping us pinned down but dug in like we are we can hold off any reasonable attacking force forever. The van is toast but we have all our supplies. I just don't get it."

It was then that they heard it. The low despairing moaning that signaled the presence of the infected. The hungry moaning that grew closer and closer. Now it became apparent why instead of the banks of the road becoming a fortress they were actually a trap. And the family was in it.

Tim squirmed forward enough to peek around the shot out tire on his side. His heart sank. How could those so far unseen attackers have done it? For coming at the McGee's was a lurching, staggering column of infected that numbered well over a hundred, perhaps over a hundred and fifty. Too many for them. But he wasn't going to just sit here and have everything taken away from him and Delilah. Yelling at everyone to get several feet back behind the trailer he ignored the incoming fire and climbed back into the driver's seat. A hasty glance in the mirrors and a wave from Wanda assured him everyone had followed his direction.

He knew the van wouldn't run for long. He had already picked up the scent of coolant all over and knew the radiator and perhaps the block were punctured. All he needed was a few seconds. He turned the key, praying for one more miracle. The engine coughed and fired. He backed up just enough to put the passenger side against that bank and twisted the wheel hard over. Lurching forward the van jammed the road from side to side. It wouldn't hold the infected for long but it should make them stack up and slow down. He cut the engine.

The sound of gunfire nearly over whelmed him. Not just the intermittent harassing fire of the trap setters but more. The older four children had leaped back into the van, lowered the windows and were firing through the gun ports that had been cut in the metal screens covering the openings. Infected were dropping but it wasn't going to be enough. They surged up to the van, beating on the side and tearing at screens. Those screens were designed to keep human prisoners in, not mindless infected out. Already Tim could see a screen giving way. It wouldn't be long before the press of the pack started forcing individual attackers around the corners of the van. Then they'd be trapped and sooner or later the infected would get in or his sharp-shooting kids would reduce their number to a point the living marauders would close in. Either way they were screwed.

Tim spared a second to look over to where his wife was. She met his eyes and nodded. They were agreed.

"Peter! Wanda!" he yelled. "Grab the girls and the four wheelers and get out of here. We'll cover you."

The protests were immediate and in some cases near hysterical. But Tim and Delilah overruled all objections. He helped Peter get the four wheelers off the back of the trailer and turned around. Delilah's lift was set so it could only lower partway so he scooped first her and then her wheelchair and set them together on the ground beside him.

The van was beginning to rock sideways from the number of infected pressing against us. Tim fired. Delilah fired twice. The infected were beginning to claw their way around the van, tearing chunks of the bank on both sides away. There was barely time for kisses and "I love you" all around and the grim faced teenagers drove off, all five crouching to avoid the increasing human gunfire as their assailants apparently could see at least a portion of their victims escaping.

Tim knelt beside his wife, his free arm around her. The always logical even at the worst of times part of his mind thought it was about time that being left-handed was a positive advantage. He could hold his wife with his right arm and she could do the same with her left while they both continued to buy time for their children to get away safely.

One shot, one kill. They plugged up the sides only to have the now fully dead bodies pushed aside by more hungry infected. They plugged the widening gaps again. Tim took advantage of that to kiss Delilah once more, deeply and passionately. They took a moment to rest their foreheads against each other.

"I love you Tim. Forever."

"I love you too Delilah. Forever."

As they wrenched their attention back to their targets Tim heard a buzzing sound that grew louder and louder. He looked over his shoulder. Were the kids disobeying them and coming back? Then with a roar a shadow swept over them. Both Tim and Delilah stared in astonishment as a Blackhawk helicopter swept over them. It banked and came back to hover to one side. Ropes dropped and several figures rappelled from the helo. At the same time something poked from the side facing the mob of infected. There was a deep snarl and what looked to be a golden laser beam touched the stacked up pile of attackers.

Tim knew it wasn't a laser. It was one of the variants of the M134 Minigun which fired the 7.62 mm cartridge at rates of up to 6000 rounds per minute. Only seconds were required to reduce the congestion in front of the van to a motionless pile. Those on the fringes were picked off by the advancing figures. The helo moved, crabbing sideways. Twice it hovered and the minigun roared again briefly.

This time the sound approaching really was the four wheelers. For an instant Tim worried the rescuers might consider them as part of their ambushers. That fear was relieved when one of the rescuers hopped down from the bank as the kids pulled up, leaping from their escape vehicles and running to Tim and Delilah.

"Good golly McParent, Wheels, are all of these now yours?"

Tim started to ask Tony how he could possibly know that the children belonged to him and Delilah when he realized that given that the five of them were crying and kissing and hugging the two adults plus calling them "Mom" and "Dad" that it was pretty obvious. So he settled for a simple "Yes" and returned to the near-impossible but deeply satisfying task of holding Delilah and all five at the same time.

The group embrace was broken when yet another familiar voice spoke.

"Good to see that you can still obey orders Tim."

"Thanks boss," Tim said, his words conveying a world of emotions he wasn't quite ready to let out yet. A thought struck him. "How in the world did you happen to be here?"

"We didn't know you were here," confessed Tony. "But we've been hunting this gang for weeks now. They were the last and the worst group of marauders near our safe zone. It's just luck that it happened to be when they were attacking you."

"If you want to call it luck," said Delilah softly. Near smothered by the delightful press of her adopted children she looked to the heavens and whispered her thanks. Regaining her equilibrium she gestured to Tony.

"Kids, this is your Uncle Tony. Tony this is Peter, Wanda, Dahlia, Angie and Becky."

"Hey there."

She turned towards Gibbs, who immediately spotted the glint of mischief in the former analyst's eyes. He opened his mouth to protest but he was too late as she went on.

"And this; is your Grandfather Gibbs."

No one besides Delilah or Abby could have got away with such an outrageous statement without receiving a blast from the former Gunnery Sergeant that could remove paint from a car body. But she could. And any objections he might have tried to raise were swept away when Becky scampered to him and wrapped her arms around him. Unable to resist he slipped an arm around the young girl's shoulders and hugged her back. So that was settled.

It took a few days but the McGee's were soon settled in the safe zone. The original house that the team had picked out and saved for them next door to Ellie and Jake was obviously not big enough but one two doors down was. Organized life was being reestablished in the steadily expanding safe zone and that included a recent restarting of schools. That done Tim and Delilah returned to work. Tim applied his talents to the struggle to reestablish communication systems and computer networks to connect them with other safe areas around the world. Delilah returned to her job of searching for threats because even in the midst of all the devastation and death some people, some groups, could not let go of their hatred and anger.

But the story actually ends about a year later when the McGee children, all formally and legally adopted now, gathered in a waiting room at the hospital anxiously awaiting their parents. A door swung open and Tim pushed Delilah into the room. Cradled in her arms was a blanket wrapped bundle. She smiled at her brood.

"It's a boy."

Peter loved all his sisters, his original one and all the others but the prospect of being the only boy among six children had worried him ever since the announcement that Delilah was pregnant. That in itself wasn't a surprise to the kids, their parents had a tendency to express themselves loudly and although their mom could not deliver naturally she could certainly get pregnant. Overjoyed to learn that he would actually have a brother and not be completely outnumbered he looked skyward.

"Thank you God!"

And for all their own reasons, varied but all including that for this moment at least they were safe, warm and a family filled with love all the rest agreed.

(The End)


End file.
